Stabbing into the beef joint vigorously with a pronged fork in one hand, Aaron picked up a carving knife in the other and began slicing through the meat.
“I assume beef is to your liking, or would you prefer ham?” he asked. “The ham looks a little dry to me, but if you would like it with some cheese, I can cut you some.”
“Thank you, beef will do,” she said.
It felt strange dining alone with a man. Having a meal with her father didn’t count. But dining intimately with Aaron felt wickedly deceitful.
Aaron placed a few slices of beef on a platter and passed it to her.
“Oh, dear,” she exclaimed. “I just realized I forgot to ask Mrs. Griffin if she knows what time the stagecoach leaves for Bath in the morning. Do you happen to know? Does the coach arrive before or after noon?”
“And why would you wish to know that?” Aaron asked.
“Well, as my carriage cannot be repaired any time soon, and as I have to reach Bath by tomorrow, I have decided that come morning, I must complete my journey by stagecoach.”
“Stagecoach?” Aaron’s tapered fingers reached for a quizzing glass that was attached to a long, black ribbon tied around his neck. He raised the monocle to his eye and surveyed her with seemingly mock distaste.
Emma felt decidedly uncomfortable by his intense scrutiny, and shifting in her chair, she tried to avoid his teasing stare.
“Miss Brentry,” he said. Even in the dim light of the room, with only the glow from the fire and the few candles that were burning, she could see a hint of amusement shining in his eyes and his lips twitch with suppressed laughter. “If you should travel by stagecoach, I can assure you, your reputation will be well and truly ruined. The disgrace of spending the night with me at The Stag and Hounds will be nothing compared to the outrage you will receive if you travel by common stage. Arriving in Bath, alone, and on public transportation, you will be disowned by your father and ostracized by society.”
She thought the man obviously had a ridiculous sense of humor.
“Sir, I will not be spending the night with you—at least, not literally. And as for using the stagecoach, I agree, it will be somewhat unrefined to do so. So pray do tell me, what are my options?” She tilted her chin high and smiled.
“Well, I had considered offering you a ride in my phaeton. But only if you think it permissible. I would not wish to place you in an awkward predicament simply because we were to travel to Bath together. In doing so, you might be left open to criticism and the gossip of Bath’s notorious scandalmongers.”
“I think my reputation will survive such an event. Especially as I have no reputation to maintain or worry about.”
“Lord Stratton might think differently.”
Aaron leaned forward and reached for a chunk of bread. As he did so, his hand brushed casually against her arm. Emma didn’t know if his touch had been accidental or not, but it was certainly unexpected and unforeseen. Excited by his nearness, she tried in vain to control her fluttering heart.
“Mr. Trent, I have explained the situation between Lord Stratton and myself, and it need not concern you further. If what you say is true, that his lordship is considered to be an eligible catch and debutants swoon at the mere thought of becoming his wife, more than likely, he has already found another upon which to shower his attention. Perhaps I need not worry about his lordship’s pursuit of me.”
“Perhaps not…but I think you should. Lord Stratton can be very determined when he wants something…as can I.”
Emma laid her cutlery down and dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “Tell me, sir, I’m curious to know—what has brought you to The Stag and Hounds, and why are you lodging here tonight? Forgive me for saying, but you do not seem to be the sort of gentleman to frequent a place such as this. Also, why did Mr. Griffin call you Major?”
Aaron lifted his glass and took a hefty gulp of wine. Setting the glass down, he rose from his chair and went over to the hearth. The fire in the inglenook had died down, and kicking the smoldering logs with a polished Hessian boot, the embers were stirred and the fire sprang to life once again.
“I did wonder if you had heard what Griffin called me.” With one hand resting on the mantel, Aaron stared down into the fire, seemingly mesmerized by the flickering flames. “Not long ago, when the Sixth Coalition tried to defeat Bonaparte, I was fighting in France. We were winning, and Bonaparte was about to surrender when I was injured in battle. Having returned to England to mend my wounds, I eventually resigned my commission. I’m no longer a Major.”
“But you were an officer, and you actually fought on the battlefield, beside your men?” she asked.
Emma knew that not all officers saw hand-to-hand combat. More often than not, senior-ranking soldiers were safely positioned out of harm’s way, coordinating the battle from a distance.
“Yes, I was on the battlefield, and yes, I did fight alongside my men. But my title and rank of Major is now honorary. As a civilian, I never refer to myself as Major. I’m just plain Mr. Aaron Trent of Windhurst Hall.”
Emma looked closely at Aaron. Not satisfied with his answer, she suspected he was withholding some vital piece of information. “And your presence at The Stag and Hounds?”
“My reason for being here is a long story, and one which I have no wish to bore you with. Let me just say that this morning I called upon a relative of mine and had thought to spend the night at Newton Saint Loe. My plans have now changed. Realizing I would not make it back to Bath before nightfall, like you, I sought lodgings at The Stag and Hounds.”
“And your family? Will they not worry that you have not returned home to them?”
“I have no family to speak of.”
“What? No wife? Earlier, I teasingly asked you to consider marriage, and stupidly, I had not thought about the possibility of you already having a wife. Is there no one to tend to your needs?”
Aaron laughed, but it wasn’t a laugh of merriment. He appeared to be laughing at himself.
“What woman in her right mind would seriously consider marrying a man such as me? I have no fortune. My house and lands are entailed, and I’m practically a cripple. Who could bear to wake of a morning and look across the breakfast table at this?”
“How did you get the scar?” She hoped he wasn’t offended by her brazen question.
“Nothing romantic, I can assure you. We were fighting the French, and at one point we became trapped and took a beating. It was most unfortunate, but there was nothing we could have done differently. We were surrounded. The battalion was massacred and only a few of us managed to survive. Those not so fortunate were left for dead while the lucky ones came away with a souvenir.” Aaron touched his cheek.
Turning toward the shining light of a burning candle, the flickering flame revealed the long, brutal slash across his face. The vivid, red scar was prominent, and it was an ugly reminder of the war he had endured against Bonaparte.
Returning to the table, he lifted his glass once again, and taking another hefty swig of wine, he set the glass down with a loud and violent thud.
“You do yourself a disservice, sir. You are handsome enough, and it is my belief you have much to recommend you. From our brief acquaintance, I know you to be a kind and thoughtful person…and also most helpful. Any woman, including myself, could do much worse than to marry you. In all honesty, I must say that I would certainly consider you as a husband.”
Emma meant the words; she was sincere in what she said. Aaron was indeed handsome, and strange as it was, even after such a brief acquaintance, she did feel an arousing attraction toward him. He had an allure. An intriguing appeal. And there was something charmingly attentive in the way he behaved when in her company.
“As I recall, you did mention you were open to the idea of a marriage of convenience in order to please your father. Are you making me an offer, Miss Brentry? From what I know of you, I would have thought you to have an aversion for a loveless marriage.”
“A loveless marriage is not my preferred preference, sir.”
“Then perhaps you are only suggesting I marry a wealthy woman, such as you, in order to gain a fortune and that it has absolutely nothing to do with the emotion of love. What you would obtain from such an alliance with me, I have no idea. A husband…yes. A fortune…no. My coffers are to let. But one never knows, perhaps if we did marry, we could settle into a comfortable existence together at Windhurst Hall and a love of sorts might grow between us.”
As Aaron looked at her, his suggestive words, along with a sudden flash of burning hunger shining in his eyes, sent her senses reeling. She felt a flame of desire stir deep within and wistfully imagined herself married to Aaron…and in love.
Emma shifted in her seat, and as she leaned forward, she caught a trace of sandalwood soap and something else; something distinctly and completely masculine that was Aaron’s.
“I was unaware you had lost your fortune, sir.”
He gave a bitter laugh. “So was I…until recently.” A worried frown crossed his brow.
“What happened? Do you care to tell?”
“There is nothing to tell. What is done, is done.”
“I can assure you, I am a good listener,” she said, offering comfort. “And as we will not see one another after tomorrow, you need not be anxious for my bad opinion of you. It is not for me to judge. If you lost your fortune while gambling at cards or on the horses, or by any other means a gentleman thinks fit to use when squandering his inheritance, you need not be troubled. It is no concern of mine. But sometimes it is good to share a worry.”
Emma reached out and covered his hand with hers. He flinched at her touch before pulling away.
Had she gone too far? Had she been too intimate with a stranger, intruding into areas that were too sensitive to be spoken of?
Then, much to her surprise, Aaron opened up and started to explain his difficulties. Whether it was the wine or simply the need to talk, she didn’t know, but she sensed that in talking, she helped him to unload some of his troubles.
Aaron described how he had come to leave his cousin in charge of Windhurst Hall and how his fortune had vanished and been lost, purely because of his cousin’s boldness in taking what wasn’t his to take. With Aaron’s fortune gone and his lands entailed, he thought himself to be no longer the strong, assertive person he had once been.
“You must think me a fool. I am now a farmer without a farm. A man without a home. Only a fool would trust as I have done. I knew Phillip was reckless, but I had no idea he would…”
Aaron lifted the decanter, poured another glass of wine, and downed it in one swallow. He stood. Moving away from the table, he walked toward the door. He wasn’t drunk, but neither was he completely sober.
“It was not your fault,” she offered. But the words sounded hollow. “You could not have foreseen that your cousin would―”
“I have got to get some fresh air,” Aaron muttered. His hand ran carelessly through his thick, dark hair. “If you will excuse me, Miss Brentry. I think I shall go to the stables and check to see if the horses have been settled for the night.”
“Mr. Trent,” she called out, hoping to stop him. She felt a need to comfort.
Unexpectedly, Aaron turned and came back to where she was seated. He towered over her. His hands clenched and unclenched into tight fists at his side, and he looked tormented.
His tall height meant Emma had to strain her neck back to look at him, and as she did so, she could see wounded anguish shining in his eyes. He was fighting his feelings, but he was also fighting something more.
Then, just as she thought he was about to turn and leave, he leaned down toward her. Placing a hand beneath her chin, he held her fast as his lips descended and found hers. He kissed her long and hard. Although his kiss was brutal, it was a kiss she found herself returning, willingly and wholeheartedly.
Her arms reached up and curled around his neck. And when he pulled her from her chair and pressed her against his hard, lean body, she didn’t resist. Their kisses continued and deepened. She could taste the heady scent of wine on his lips, and when his hands reach for her breasts and cupped them gently, she trembled with need.
Aaron pulled away, his breathing labored.
He shook his head as if clearing his wanton thoughts from his treacherous mind. “I cannot marry you. The idea is absurd. I have nothing to offer. At this moment in time, passion and desire are all I can give, and you deserve much more than a passing flirtation.” He took a step back. “Get some sleep, Miss Brentry. I shall be leaving early in the morning, and if you still wish to ride with me to Bath, be ready to travel at nine-of-the-clock…sharp, for I shall not linger.”
Without further comment, Aaron walked to the door of the parlor, flung it open, and vanished into the darkness of the night.