11
Sit down, Westfield,” Eldridge ordered curtly. “Your frenzied pacing is driving me mad.”
Marcus glared as he took a seat. “I am going mad. I need to know where Elizabeth is. God only knows the ordeal …” He choked, his throat too tight to speak.
Eldridge’s normally stern features softened with sympathy. “You mentioned the outriders you assigned to her are gone as well. It’s a good sign. Perhaps they were able to follow and will report her whereabouts when the opportunity presents itself.”
“Or else they are dead,” Marcus retorted. He stood and began pacing again.
Eldridge leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers together. “I have agents checking all possible roads leading from Chesterfield Hall and questioning everyone who lives near enough to have seen or heard anything. Information is bound to surface.”
“Time is a luxury we don’t have,” Marcus growled.
“Go home. Wait for word.”
“I’ll wait here.”
“Your outriders may attempt to contact you. Perhaps they’ve already tried. You should return to your home. Keep yourself occupied. Pack and make preparations to leave.”
The thought of a message waiting for him gave Marcus a sense of purpose. “Very well, but if you hear anything—”
“Anything at all, yes, I will send for you posthaste.”
For the all too brief ride back to his home Marcus felt productive, but the moment he arrived and discovered nothing new had been reported his near ferocious agitation returned in full measure. With his family in residence, he could not give vent to his feelings, and was forced instead to retreat from their curious eyes.
He prowled the lengths of his galleries in his shirtsleeves, his skin damp with sweat, his heart racing as if he were running. Constant rubbing at the back of his neck left the skin raw, but he couldn’t stop. The pictures in his mind … torturous thoughts of Elizabeth needing him … hurting … afraid …
His head fell back on a groan of pure anguish. He couldn’t bear it. He wanted to yell, to snarl, to tear something apart.
An hour passed. And then another. Finally he could take the waiting no more. Marcus returned to his room, shrugged into his coats, and moved to the staircase, his intent to hunt St. John down. The pressure of his knife sheathed in his boot fueled his bloodlust. If Elizabeth were harmed in any way there would be no mercy.
Halfway down the stairs, he spotted his butler at the door and a moment later it opened, revealing one of the outriders. Covered in dust from his rapid return, the man waited in the foyer and bowed as Marcus’s boot hit the marble floor.
“Where is she?”
“On the way to Essex, my lord.”
Marcus froze. Ravensend. Seat of her late godfather, the Duke of Ravensend.
Elizabeth was running. Damn her.
He grabbed his packed valise, and turned to Paul who stood in the doorway of the study. “I will be in Essex.”
“Is everything all right?” Paul asked.
“It will be shortly.”
Within moments, Marcus was on the road.
The wheels of the Westfield travel coach crunched through the gravel on the final approach to Ravensend Manor before reaching the cobblestones that lined the circular driveway. The moon was high, its soft glow lighting the large manse and the small cottage beyond.
Marcus stepped down wearily and ordered his men to the livery. Turning away from the main house, he took rapid strides toward the cliff edge where the guesthouse and Elizabeth waited. He’d make his presence known to the duke in the morning.
The small residence was dark when he entered through the kitchen. He closed the door quietly, shutting out the rhythmic roar of the waves that battered the coast just a few yards away. Making his way through the house in darkness, Marcus checked every bedroom until he found Elizabeth.
Leaving his valise on the floor by the door, Marcus undressed silently and crawled into the bed next to her. She stirred at the feel of his cold skin beside hers.
“Marcus,” she murmured, still fast asleep. She spooned into his chest, unconsciously sharing her warmth.
Despite his anger and frustration, he snuggled against her. Her trust while sleeping was telling. She had become accustomed to spending the nights next to him during the short duration of their affair.
He was still furious with her for running away, but his relief in finding her well and out of danger was foremost on his mind. Never again would he go through this torment. There could be no doubt that she was his. Not in Eldridge’s mind, or hers.
Exhausted by worry, he buried his face in the sweetly scented curve of her shoulder and fell asleep.
Elizabeth woke and burrowed deeper into the warmth of the bed. Slowly rising to consciousness, she stretched out fully, her legs brushing along Marcus’s hair-dusted calf.
With a sudden flare of awareness, she sat upright and shot a startled glance at the pillow beside her. Marcus slept peacefully on his stomach, the sheet and counterpane straddling his hips, leaving his muscular back exposed.
She jumped out of the bed as if it were on fire.
His eyes opened sleepily, his lips curving in a languid smile, and then he fell back asleep, obviously finding her angered surprise to be of no danger.
Grabbing her clothes, Elizabeth retreated to the next room to dress, wondering how he’d found her so quickly. She’d deliberately avoided any of her own family holdings so that it would be difficult, if not impossible to locate her. But Marcus had found her before even a day had passed.
Furious and flustered at finding him in her bed, Elizabeth left the house and made her way to the roped path on the cliffs that led to the beach below.
She picked her way carefully down the somewhat steep and rocky decline. The cliff rose some distance above the shore and Elizabeth ignored the stunning view in favor of studying the ground at her feet. She didn’t mind the concentration it took. Instead she relished the temporary distraction from her confusion.
Finally reaching the beach, she dropped onto the damp sand and hugged her knees to her chest. She prayed for the sound of the waves lapping on the beach to soothe her.
She vividly recalled the first moment she’d laid eyes on Marcus Ashford, then the Viscount Sefton. She remembered how her breath had caught in her throat and how hot her skin had suddenly become, how her breathing and heart rate had quickened until she thought she might swoon. Those had not been singular reactions. She had felt them many times since then and even just that morning when he had smiled at her, all sleep-tousled masculine beauty.
She couldn’t live like that, couldn’t see how anyone could live consumed by a lust that seemed insatiable. Unschooled as she was, she hadn’t known a body could crave the touch of another the way it did food or air. Now, finally, she understood an inkling of the hunger her father must feel every day. Without her mother he would always be ravenous, always searching for something that could appease the emptiness left by her loss.
Tilting her head, Elizabeth closed her eyes and rested her cheek against her knees.
Why couldn’t Marcus simply stay away?
Marcus paused on the small porch and took in his surroundings. The bite of the salty morning air was sharp. He wondered if Elizabeth had collected a wrap before venturing out. To say she’d looked horrified to discover him in her bed would be an understatement. Knowing her as he did, he suspected she’d run out without forethought.
Where the devil had she gone?
“She’s gone down to the beach, Westfield,” came a dry tone to his left. Marcus turned his head to greet the Duke of Ravensend.
“Your Grace.” He dipped his head in a bow. “It was my intent to present myself this morn and explain my presence. I trust you don’t find my stay an imposition.”
The duke led a black stallion by the reins and came to a halt directly before him. They were of an age, His Grace being the youngest after four older sisters, but Marcus was nearly a head taller. “Of course not. It’s been too long since we last exchanged words. Walk with me.”
Unable to refuse, Marcus reluctantly left the shadow of the guesthouse.
“Watch the horse,” the duke cautioned. “He’s a biter.”
Heeding the warning, Marcus took the opposite side. “How fares Lady Ravensend?” he asked as they fell into step. He cast a longing glace over his shoulder at the roped path that led to the beach.
“Better than you. I thought you wiser than to chase more abuse. But I concede the appeal. Lady Hawthorne remains one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever had the fortune to cross paths with. I fancied her myself. As did most peers.”
Nodding grimly, Marcus kicked a pebble out of his path.
“I wonder who she’ll take up with once she’s finished with you? Hodgeham, perhaps? Or Stanton again? A young one, I’m certain. She’s as wild as this brute.” The duke gestured to his horse.
Marcus grit his teeth. “Stanton is a friend in the chastest sense of the word and Hodgeham …” He snorted in disgust. “Hodgeham couldn’t manage her.”
“And you can?”
“Better than any other man.”
“You should marry her then. Or perhaps that’s your intent. Either you or some other poor chap. You leapt into that cage once before.”
“She has no wish to marry again.”
“She will,” Ravensend said with a confident nod. “She has no children. When she’s of the mind, she’ll pick someone.”
Marcus came to an abrupt stop. Eldridge, William, and now Ravensend. He’d be damned if another individual meddled in his affairs. “Pardon me, Your Grace.”
He spun on the heel of his boot and made rapid strides toward the roped walk. He would put a stop to all their intrusions once and for all.
Elizabeth prowled the coastline restlessly, picking up small pebbles and stones along the way. She tossed them over the water, trying to skip them and failing miserably. William had once spent an entire afternoon attempting to teach her how to skip rocks. Although she’d never acquired the skill, the repetitive swing of her arm was calming. The music of the English coastline—the lapping waves and the cries of seagulls— brought her a measure of peace from her fevered thoughts.
“A calm surface is required, love,” came the deeply luxurious voice behind her.
With shoulders squared, she turned to face her tormenter.
Dressed casually in a worn sweater and wool breeches, Marcus had never looked more virile, the roughness of his edges unblunted by any social veneer. His hair was tied back at his nape, but the salty breeze tugged the silken strands free and blew them softly across his handsome face.
Just looking at him made her feel like crying.
“You shouldn’t have come,” she told him.
“I had no choice.”
“Yes, you did. If you had any sense you would allow this …” She gestured wildly. “… thing between us to die out gracefully, instead of dragging it out to its inevitable bad end.”
“Damn you.” A muscle in his jaw ticked as he took a step toward her. “Damn you to hell for throwing away what exists between us as if it does not signify. Risking your life—”
Her hands clenched into fists at his wounded tone. “I took the outriders with me.”
“The only bit of sense you’ve shown since I met you.”
“You are a bully! You have been from the first. Seducing, scheming, and manipulating me however you wish. Go back to London, Lord Westfield, and find another woman’s life to ruin.”
Turning from him, Elizabeth stalked toward the cliffs. Marcus caught her arm as she attempted to pass, pulling her to a stop. She struggled with a frightened cry, alarmed by the possessiveness of his gaze.
“I was content before you came along. My life was simple and orderly. I want that back. I don’t want you.”
He thrust her away with such force she stumbled. “Regardless, you have me.”
She hurried toward the rope-lined path. “As you wish. I shall leave.”
“Craven,” he drawled after her.
Eyes wide, Elizabeth turned to face him again. Like the time he’d asked her to dance at the Morelands’, his emerald eyes sparkled with challenge. This time though, she would not be goaded into acting foolishly.
“Perhaps,” she admitted, lifting her chin. “You frighten me. Your determination, your recklessness, your passion. Everything about you scares the wits from me. It’s not how I wish to live my life.”
His chest expanded on a deep breath. Behind him the waves continued to beat upon the shore, the relentless driving rhythm no longer soothing. It urged her to flee. Run. Run far away. She took a backward step.
“Give me a fortnight,” he said quickly. “You and I alone, here in the guesthouse. Live with me, as my partner.”
“Why?” she asked, startled.
His arms crossed his chest. “I intend to wed you.”
“What?” Suddenly dizzy, Elizabeth backed away with hand to throat. Tripping on her skirts, she fell to her knees. “You’ve gone mad,” she cried.
His mouth curved in a bitter smile. “It seems so, yes.”
Her breath coming in unsteady pants, Elizabeth leaned forward, her fingers sinking into the damp sand. She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. “Whatever made you conceive of such a ridiculous notion? You’ve no wish to marry, nor do I.”
“Not true. I must wed. And you and I suit.”
She swallowed hard, her stomach roiling. “Physically, perhaps. But lust fades. In no time at all you’ll grow weary of a wife and seek your pleasures elsewhere.”
“If you are equally bored, you won’t be disturbed.”
Furious, she grabbed handfuls of sand and threw them at his chest. “Go to hell!”
He laughed, shaking out his sweater with maddening nonchalance. “Jealousy is a possessive emotion, love. You’ll have to wed me if you want the right to feel that way.”
Elizabeth searched his face, looking for deceit and found nothing but cool impassivity. His face, so breathtaking, revealed nothing of his thoughts. The determined line of his jaw, however, was achingly familiar. “I don’t wish to marry again.”
“Consider the benefits.” Marcus held out his hand and ticked off with his fingers. “Elevated rank. Great wealth. I will afford you the same independence you enjoyed with Hawthorne. And you’ll have me in your bed, a prospect you should find vastly appealing.”
“Conceited rogue. Allow us to discuss the negatives as well. You thrive on danger. You are eager to die. And you’re too bloody damn arrogant.”
Grinning, he held out his hand and helped her to her feet. “I ask for a fortnight to change your mind. If I cannot, I’ll leave you in peace and never bother you again. I’ll resign from this mission and another agent will protect you.”
She shook her head. “The situation here is far different than our life would be under normal circumstances. There is little danger for you around here.”
“True,” he admitted. “But perhaps I can make the rest of your life so pleasant that my work with Eldridge will be of less consequence.”
“Impossible!”
“A fortnight,” he urged. “It’s all I ask. You owe me that much, at least.”
“No.” The gleam in his eye could not be mistaken. “I know what you want.”
Marcus met her gaze squarely. “I won’t touch you. I swear it.”
“You lie.”
His brow rose. “You doubt I can restrain myself? I shared a bed with you last night and didn’t make love to you. I assure you, I have control over my baser needs.”
Elizabeth chewed her lower lip, weighing her options. To be free of him forever …
“You will find another room?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“You promise not to make any advances?”
“I promise.” His mouth curved wickedly. “When you want me, you’ll have to ask me.”
She bristled at his arrogance. “What do you hope to accomplish by this?”
He came toward her and when he spoke, his voice was tender. “We already know you enjoy me in your bed. I intend to prove you will enjoy having me in the rest of your life as well. I’m not always so tiresome. In fact, some would say I’m quite pleasant.”
“Why me?” she asked plaintively, her hand sheltering her racing heart. “Why marriage?”
Marcus shrugged. “‘The time is right’ would be the simplest answer. I enjoy your company, despite how often you are obstinate and disagreeable.”
When she shook her head, he frowned. “You said yes once before.”
“That was before I knew about the agency.”
His tone deepened, became cajoling. “Don’t you wish to manage your own household again? Wouldn’t you like to have children? Build a family? Surely you don’t wish to be alone forever.”
Startled, she stared at him with wide eyes. Marcus Ashford discussing children? The longing that washed over her so unexpectedly scared her to death.
“You want an heir.” She looked away to hide her reaction.
“I want you. The heir and other progeny would be added delights.”
Her eyes flew to meet his again. Flustered by his nearness and his determination, Elizabeth turned toward the path in the cliffs.
“Do we have an agreement?” he called after her, remaining behind.
“Yes,” she threw over her shoulder, her voice carried by the wind. “A fortnight, then you are out of my life.”
His satisfaction was a palpable thing and she ran from it.
Elizabeth reached the top of the cliff and fell to her knees. Marriage. The word choked her throat and made her dizzy, leaving her panting for air like a swimmer too long under water. Marcus’s will was a force to be reckoned with. What the devil was she to do now that he’d set his mind on marriage again?
Lifting her head, she looked toward the livery with aching longing. It would be such a relief to go, to leave the turmoil behind.
But she discarded the idea. Marcus would come for her, he would track her down as long as she still wanted him. And no matter how hard she tried, she was unable to hide the depth and breadth of her attraction.
Therefore, the only way to be rid of his attentions was to accept the bargain he offered. Marcus would have to end his pursuit of his own accord. There was no other way the obstinate man would quit.
Wearily resolved, Elizabeth stood and made her way toward the guesthouse. She would have to move carefully. He knew her too well. The slightest intimation that she was uneasy and he would pounce, pressing his advantage with his customary ruthlessness. She would have to be relaxed and indifferent. It was the only solution.
Satisfied she had a reasonable plan of action, she quickened her pace.
Meanwhile, Marcus lingered on the beach and wondered at his sanity. God help him, he wanted her still. Wanted her more than before. He’d once hoped to satisfy his need and finally be done with her. Now he prayed his aching need would never end, the pleasure was too great to forfeit.
If only he’d known the trap that awaited him in her arms. But there had been no way to know. With all his experience, he still could never have imagined the searing rapture of Elizabeth’s bed or the ever-growing need he had to tame her and pin her beneath him, as lost to his desire as he was.
Picking up a rock from the pile Elizabeth left behind, he tossed it into the water. He’d created quite a challenge for himself. Her one vulnerability had always been their desire for each other. Naked and sated, Elizabeth was soft and open to discussion. Now he was denied seduction to achieve his ends. He would have to woo her like a gentleman, something he’d never managed even the first time.
But should he succeed, he would thwart Eldridge’s plan to replace him and prove to one and all that Elizabeth was his. There would be no doubt.
Marriage. He shuddered. It had finally happened. The woman had driven him insane.
“I want to see where you’re taking me.”
“No,” Marcus whispered in her ear, steadying her with his hands on her shoulders. “It would not be a surprise if you knew.”
“I’m not fond of surprises,” Elizabeth complained.
“Well, you will have to become accustomed, sweet, because I am full of them.”
She snorted and he laughed, his heart as light as the afternoon breeze. “Ah, love. Much as you wish it weren’t so, you adore me.”
Her lush mouth curved in a smile, the ends of her lips touching the underside of the blindfold that blocked her vision. “Your conceit knows no bounds.”
She shrieked as he hefted her into the air, and then sank to his knees. He set her down on the blanket he’d spread earlier and removed her blindfold, watching expectantly as she blinked against the sudden bright light.
With the help of the duke’s staff, he’d arranged a picnic, selecting a field of wild grass just over the rise from the main manor. She’d been unnaturally tense since their talk on the beach that morning and he knew something unexpected was warranted if he wished to make headway.
“This is lovely,” she exclaimed, her eyes wide and filled with pleasure. Sans the assistance of an abigail and unwilling to let him help her dress, Elizabeth was forced to attire herself in a startlingly simple gown. With her hair uncoiffed and tied back from her face, there was nothing to compete with the singular beauty of her features.
Basking in the glow of her surprise, Marcus silently agreed with her sentiment. Elizabeth was breathtaking, her fine features lovingly shielded by the wide brim of her straw hat.
Smiling, he reached into the basket and withdrew a bottle of wine. He filled a glass and handed it to her, the touch of her fingers against his sending a frisson of awareness up his spine.
“I’m pleased you approve,” he murmured. “It’s only my second attempt at formal courtship.” His gaze lifted to hers. “I’m a bit nervous, truth be told.”
“You?” She arched a brow.
“Yes, love.” Marcus lay on his back and stared up at the summer sky. “It’s distressing to think I may be refused. I was more confident the first time around.”
Elizabeth laughed, a soft joyful sound that brought a smile to his face. “You shall find another, far more suitable candidate. A young woman who will worship your remarkable handsomeness and charm, and be far more biddable.”
“I would never marry a woman such as you describe. I much prefer passionate, uneven-tempered seductresses like yourself.”
“I am not a seductress!” she protested, and he laughed with delight.
“You certainly were the other evening. The way you arched your brow and bit your lip before fucking me senseless. I vow, I’ve never seen anything as seductive. And the way you look when you—”
“Tell me about your family,” she interrupted, her cheeks flushing. “How are Paul and Robert?”
He glanced sidelong at her, relishing the view of her against the natural backdrop, freed from the constraints of society. The tall grass around them flowed like waves of water in the gentle breeze, filling the air with the scent of warm earth and salty sea. “They are well. They inquire about you, as does my mother.”
“Do they? I am surprised, but pleased they don’t resent me overmuch. They should venture out more. It has been almost a fortnight since they arrived, and yet they’ve not attended one social function.”
“Robert still has no interest whatsoever in social pursuits. Paul prefers his club. He spends most of his time there. And my mother has to order new gowns every Season, and refuses to be seen until they are finished.” His grin was fond. “Heaven forbid that she be seen in a gown from last year.”
She smiled. “Is Robert still the spitting image of you?”
“So I’ve been told.”
“You don’t think so?”
“No. The resemblance is there, but no more than one would expect. And Paul remains as different from me as you are from your brother.” He reached for her hand and linked his fingers with hers, needing the physical connection. She tugged, but he held fast. “You will see for yourself soon enough.”
She wrinkled her nose. “You seem quite confident in your ability to win my hand.”
“I cannot think otherwise. Now tell me you wrote Barclay about your location.”
“Yes, of course. He would be frantic, and unbearable company for Margaret if I had not.”
They lapsed into silence and Marcus enjoyed their rare accord, content to experience the daylight hours with her.
“What are you contemplating so seriously?” he asked after a time.
“My mother.” She sighed. “William says she loved the coast. We used to visit here often and play in the sand. He tells stories of her lifting the hem of her skirts and dancing across the beach with our father.”
“You don’t remember?”
Her fingers tightened fractionally on his and lifting her glass, she took a large swallow of wine. Her gaze moved to the distant cliffs and her voice, when it came, was soft and faraway. “Sometimes I think I recall her scent or the tone of her voice, but I cannot be certain.”
“I’m sorry,” he soothed, rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand.
She sighed. “Perhaps it’s for the best that she’s only a fleeting impression. William remembers her, and it saddens him. It’s why he’s so protective, I think. Her illness progressed so quickly, it took us all by surprise. My father especially.”
There was an unusual edge to Elizabeth’s voice when she referred to her father. Marcus rolled to his side and rested his head in his hand, maintaining his casual pose while studying her intently. “Your father never remarried.”
She returned his gaze, a small frown marring the space between her brows. “He loved my mother too much to ever take another wife. He still loves her.”
Marcus considered the Earl of Langston’s libidinous reputation. This in turn led him to consider his own dislike of romantic entanglements.
“Tell me about your father,” he urged, curious. “As often as I’ve spoken with him, I still know precious little about him.”
“You are probably better acquainted with him than I. My resemblance to my mother is painful, so he avoids me. I often think he would have been best served by never falling in love. Lord knows the sentiment brought him precious little happiness and a lifetime of regret.”
There was a sadness in her eyes and a firmness to her lips that betrayed her distress. He wanted to pull her into his arms and comfort her, so he did just that, rising to a seated position and pulling her against his chest. Tossing aside the obtrusive hat, he pressed a kiss to her neck and breathed in her scent. Together, they faced the ocean.
“I worried about my mother when my father passed on,” Marcus murmured, his hands caressing the length of her arms. “I was not certain she could live without him. Like your parents, mine also had a love match. But she is a strong woman and she recovered. While she most likely won’t marry again, my mother has found contentment without a spouse.”
“So have I,” Elizabeth said softly.
Reminders of how she didn’t need him would not benefit his cause. He had to win her before she learned of Eldridge’s decision. Reluctantly pulling away, Marcus removed her glass from stiff fingers and topped it up. “Are you hungry?”
Elizabeth nodded, obviously relieved. Then she gave him a dazzling smile that made his breath catch and his blood heat.
At that moment, he knew. She was his, and he would protect her. Whatever the cost.
A cold tingle crawled up his spine as he remembered the sight of her ransacked room. What would have happened if she’d been home? Clenching his jaw, he vowed to never find out.
Marriage seemed a small price to pay to keep her safe.