The Convenient Bride (16 page)

He had
never expected her to deny him anything. In fact, no woman had ever refused him
even one kiss. But during the past twenty-four hours, he'd realized he was
attracted to the red-haired Fairy Lady. And dash it all, he had decided it was
Miss Garland or nobody.

Miss
Cherrie Black had not made it to Grimstoke's party. She was still in London,
recovering from a cold. He had barely been interested in her anyway. No one
seemed to fit into his plans like Miss Garland did. Devil take it, there was
just something about her.

She
might not be the perfect wife, and she might want more than he was willing to
give, but they could find a compromise. He was sure of it. And besides, he
would lose his right arm before he'd let the lady marry Kingsdale.

He
strode from the stables toward Grimstoke Hall. Where was that blasted library?

Chapter Fourteen

W
orrying her bottom lip, Briana
glanced at the library door through which Violet had happily departed only
minutes ago.  She set aside the books her friend had pulled from her father’s
Egyptian collection and rose from her chair.  How long did she have?  Five
minutes?  Ten?  An hour at most?

After a
long pause she walked toward Lord Grimstoke's desk. A small fire crackled in
the hearth, reminding her very much of the sparks that would fly if she were
caught snooping.

As
quickly as she could, she rifled through the desk drawers. All of them were
unlocked. Her heart sank. She knew that any important missives would not be
neatly folded in an unlocked drawer for anyone to grab.

Her eyes
kept moving warily back to the door. She turned full circle, then glanced at
the brick fireplace behind her. She let go a deep sigh, wondering if it was
wise for her to continue her search without Agatha's direction.

Where
could the missive be? Had it been dispatched or was the courier waiting for a
certain time to place the document?

Did
Agatha know about the timing or was she waiting for more information? Or was
this all for nothing?

Her brow
wrinkled in thought and her eyes narrowed. The mantel? Was there a secret hiding
place there? A movable panel from years ago?

She
walked forward and pressed her hand against the cool brick, feeling for any
sign of movement. The orange flames of the fire flickered in the corner of her
eye.

The door
clicked and with the quickness of a cat, she dropped her hands to her sides and
spun around.

"Ah,
Miss Garland, what a pleasant surprise."

Her
heart thumped at the sight of Lord Kingsdale standing on the threshold.
"Good afternoon, my lord."

His gaze
traveled from her face to the stack of books on the nearby table. A wicked
smile tipped the corners of his mouth. "Reading again? You never were one
to sit idle, were you, my dear? Hmmm, last time we met it was in the duchess's
private sitting room, was it not? And here we are, alone again."

His eyes
moved over her. "How very fortunate. You look lovelier than ever."

Briana's
warning to Violet rang in her ears. It was as if Kingsdale were stalking her.
Pushing him away would be harder than she'd thought. Ignoring his intense
assessment of her person, she made her way to the chair, picking up the book she
had been reading earlier.

"I
would rather forget about the last time we met, if you please, my lord. You
see, I am fortunate Lord Grimstoke has such a wonderful library. His collection
on Egyptian architecture is fascinating."

She
hated to give him the cut-direct, but he was beginning to grate on her nerves.
She opened the book and pretended to read. "If you would excuse me."

The man
walked closer, his intimate chuckle sending a ripple of uneasiness down her
back. "Come now, Miss Garland, don't play games with me. I know you adore
the pyramids, but you are not reading about them now. You are waiting for
someone in particular, are you not?"

Her head
snapped up. "What?"

"Lord
Clayton Clearbrook, perhaps? I hear he was your knight in shining armor on your
little journey here. And of course, the man did seem a bit protective of you
the last time we met."

"I
don't need protection from anybody," she said coolly. "And Lord
Clayton has no say over what I do."

"Is
that so? Heard he was in a rare fit when they brought you in with that wound to
your head. You are well?"

A trace
of worry lit the man's eyes, and she wondered if she had misjudged him.

"A
bump behind the ear. A mere scratch. Nothing significant."

"From
what I hear, Miss Appleby is in worse shape."

Briana
started. Could he be hoping she would be without a chaperone for the next few
days?

She
lifted her chin. "A blow to her head and a sprained ankle have left her in
bed for the next few days."

"I
see. And does your injury preclude your attendance at tonight's little
soirée?"

"I
don't believe I will be dancing, my lord. However, I may watch from the
side."

He
strolled across the room, his eyes never leaving her face.

She was
determined not to flinch. What did this man want from her? She had refused his
offer of marriage years ago, and friendship with him was out of the question.

He came
within a foot of her, his dark eyes studying her face. Without another word, he
brought her hand to his lips. "Then I will watch the dancing with you
beside me as well."

She
tried to pull free of his hold, but his grip on her hand was too strong.
"My lord—"

Her
words were cut short when the door flew open. Heat flooded her at the sight of
Lord Clayton walking into the room. His violet-blue eyes glittered with such
contempt she wanted to fall through the floor. How was it that he always caught
her with Kingsdale? Was someone feeding him information?

Kingsdale
glanced over his shoulder, his hand still holding hers. Briana gave a slight
tug, but the man stood firm.

"Ah,
Lord Clayton. I was hoping the lady would give me a dance tonight. You don't
mind, do you?"

"Mind?"
Clayton responded stiffly. "The lady is not my wife."

Briana
felt the slight of his words as if he had slapped her. Tears burned the back of
her throat, but she refused to show him how much he had hurt her. Instead she
gave him a brilliant smile. "Indeed, I am not your wife, my lord."

"How
very fortunate for you," he said, his words carrying a warning of
disapproval as he glared at Kingsdale.

Briana
pressed her lips together in anger. It took her a moment to respond. "I
have promised the first dance to Gregory."

She was
so furious, she blurted out Kingsdale's Christian name before she could think.
Now she had done it! Agatha would skin her alive. How dim-witted could she be?
Lord Clayton seemed to bring out the worst in her.

The
intimacy of the announcement brought a smile to Kingsdale's lips. He couldn't
have planned it any better. He released her hand and gave her a curt bow.
"Until tonight."

Clayton
stood perfectly still as Kingsdale strode from the room. He waited for the
man's heels to click down the hall, then he shifted his gaze back to Miss
Garland, who had turned her back on him. The lady seemed to be studying the
fire as if some great secret were tucked inside its flames.

And when
the devil did she start wearing such expensive, low-cut gowns? Thunderation,
she was sending him to Bedlam!

With a
decided turn, he snapped the door closed. He saw her jump and almost smiled.
"Gregory?" he inquired harshly.

Two
green eyes peeped through thick lashes as she turned her head to look at him.
"Did you say something, my lord?"

He
marched farther into the room, deliberately placing the desk between them.
Jupiter and Zeus, he wanted to wring her neck. "I came to warn you about
Lord Kingsdale."

"Who?"
she said innocently.

A muscle
twitched in his jaw. "I am speaking of Kingsdale, Miss Garland. The man
who just left here."

She made
a full turn to stare at him. "Oh, Gregory?"

He
slapped his hand to the desk. "You should stay away from the man."

"Why?"

Heaven
help him! Why? Did the chit want him to spell it out for her?
"Because."

"I
see. Well, I appreciate the information, my lord, but I believe I can make my
own choices, thank you."

Without
another word, she returned to her reading material, dismissing him as if he
were some lowly servant.

Shocked
at her indifference, Clayton mentally counted to ten as she turned the pages of
her book. Pacing around the desk, he struck a hand against the mantel and stood
a few feet away from her. He stared at the auburn curls framing her face, remembering
the time he had caught her sleeping in the duke's library. She had been
enchanting ...

"Miss
Garland."

She said
nothing and turned another page.

His gaze
shifted to the graceful turn of her ankle where her gown had pulled up a few
inches. Devil take it, he wanted to take her in his arms and—and what?

He
started pacing again, staring at the back of her head. She was the most obstinate
woman he had ever encountered.

He
stopped and spun on his heel. "He is a rake!"

Surprised
at the outburst, Miss Garland shot out of her chair and turned to glare at him.
Her small hand fisted at her side. "He wants to marry me!"

"Well,
he cannot marry you!"

"Oh?
I fail to see why you have any say in the matter!"

"I
have a say because your chaperone put you in my care!"

"I
don't need a chaperone," she snapped back, her face coloring.

His lips
spread into a devilish grin, and he felt a certain calmness begin to overtake
him. When the lady was angry, she seemed to lose all control. He should have
noticed that little fact sooner. "In truth, I don't care what you want,
Miss Garland," he said softly.

She
brought a hand to the back of her head and rubbed it. There was a flicker of
pain in her expression that reminded him all too well of yesterday's accident.

His calm
demeanor instantly fled. "And why the devil are you not in your chambers?
You should be resting."

She
grabbed the back of the chair, her face turning redder, from embarrassment or
anger he wasn't certain. "This is silly. You? My chaperone?"

"Nevertheless"—his
voice was dangerously low—"you will do as I say."

Every
muscle in her body seemed to turn to stone. "I won't. You have no say over
me."

His hand
sliced through the air as he strode closer. "Oh, yes, I do! Kingsdale has
done things I cannot even begin to explain. But I vow, if I see you alone with
the man again—"

She
poked her finger in the air and started walking toward him. "You'll what?
Have tea with him and spill it all over your breeches? A fine laugh he will
have then. Or will you tell him how you proposed to me in such a kind and
decent way?"

In one
swift move he grabbed hold of her wrist. She pulled away, backing up against
the desk, where her hand accidentally knocked Grimstoke's writing box to the
floor. Her gaze jerked to his. "Now, see what you made me do!"

He
instantly released her as she bent down to pick up the box. A small container
of wax fell beside it, along with Grimstoke's seal.

Ashamed
at his childish actions, Clayton knelt and picked up an ivory letter opener
that had fallen out of the box.

What the
devil was wrong with him? She wasn't his sister, and yet the urge to protect
this female had consumed him. Or was it something more because he wanted her
for his bride? The idea of a marriage of convenience began to vex him.

He shook
his head and accidentally brushed her shoulder. Her hair shimmered like a
sparkling stream running over red stone. She smelled of sweet vanilla. Her skin
was smooth and white—

Hell's
bells! The sudden realization that love could be part of his problem sobered
him instantly.

"Let
me help you," he said, more harshly than he intended.

She cast
him a look of disdain, then dropped her gaze. "I don't need any help from
you."

He
tipped her chin, noting the tears glistening in her eyes, wondering if a kiss
would shed his tumultuous feelings. "Forgive me. That was not
gentlemanly."

She
sniffed and settled the box back onto the desk.

He wiped
a tear from her cheek. "The last time I did this ... I kissed you."

Her
expression was thunderous. "The last time—"

He
wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him, pressing his lips
to hers. She was soft and pliable in his arms, an innocent flower crushed beneath
his grip. To his surprise she returned his kiss.

"Bree!"

The kiss
ended abruptly as they both stared at the intruder.

"Violet!
I, uh, didn't see you," Miss Garland replied shakily.

Her
friend giggled. "Evidently not. I came to see how you were doing with the
books."

Clayton
watched in amusement as both ladies turned pink with embarrassment. He bid the
ladies a good day, but as he retreated from the room, the taste of Miss Garland
still lingered on his lips. Was he mad? He wanted the lady as a bride, but he
certainly didn't need to form any deep emotional attachment to her, like love.
Love would thoroughly destroy his plans.

"I've
searched the area around the desk and everywhere in between," Briana
confided to Agatha later that evening. "I don't know where else to
look."