Chapter 14

If only that were possible, Cynthia thought. She might feel many things when she was with James, but she wasn’t sure that safe was one of them. Ever since they’d left the cottage she’d been wishing to be alone with James again, and not just so she could force him to answer her questions. It was difficult having Aunt Prudence always following her about or requesting her company. Missing James was very quickly becoming a fact of life and that was even though he was about several hours of the day—they just weren’t alone. And she had to be careful thinking about being alone with him or she’d start to flush. It felt sometimes like her body positively craved the man. She leaned closer, letting her gaze rest on his broad shoulders. “I am not sure how I feel being here.”

He lowered his chin slightly, almost brushing her cheek. “You once regarded it almost a second home. Can you not feel that way again?”

“I don’t know. That seems very long ago.” Her eyes moved away from his, resisting his pull.

“What do you need to feel that way again?” He sounded so serious.

“Why do you care?”

“Because I do care.” He said it so simply, so flatly.

Her gaze returned to his, trying to see behind the bland mask he wore. “That is easy to say.”

“I will not deny that words are easy, Sin. But I do mean them. I want you to feel at home here. I want…” His voice trailed off.

Her heart beat faster. “I know what you want; you have made that very apparent.”

A wry smile played about his lips. She had to fight the urge to reach out and stroke them.

“How can you know what I want when I do not know myself?” he said.

And how did she reply to that? “I think you have made it very clear what you want.”

“If you mean I want you to marry me, then yes, that is clear. If you mean I want your body, then that I cannot deny. But what if I want more?”

They were so close it was hard to believe he did not feel her heart beating. “And what is more?”

His eyes clouded. “That is what I do not know. I know I want you to smile at me like you used to. I know I do not like seeing the worry that lies between your brows.” His hand lifted and hovered at that tight spot between her eyes, but did not touch. “I know I want to see you run down the halls as fast as you can, laughter ringing out.”

“I think that is unlikely to happen.”

“But I can still want it. I want to look up and see your feet dangling from the high branch of a tree.”

“I think you just want to look up my skirts.” She stepped back giving a little twirl so that they spun about her.

His smile grew. “I would not deny that, but mostly I just want to see you happy, Sin. Is that too much to ask?”

It might be. It was hard to imagine simply being happy. “And what should I wish for you?”

His smile froze. His eyes grew dark. “Whatever you want.”

Now that was dangerous. She closed her eyes, but that only made her even more aware of how close he was. The musk of his scent wrapped about her. If she leaned even an inch they would be touching. A thousand careless words rose to her lips, but she held them all back. It would be too easy to make a comment about desire and wanting, but something more serious was between them in this moment. He made her want to be happy, made her want to…No. Her mind was slipping toward danger again.

She opened her eyes and stared at him. “I want you to give me the space to think my own thoughts.”

He took a step back. “Of course. I didn’t mean…Is that really what you think about me, that I would…?”

She opened her mouth to answer, to say she hadn’t meant it, that she was just so confused, but before she could speak the swish of skirts interrupted them.

“I am sure she feels that you’re a cad seeking a compliment,” Aunt Prudence said, sweeping into the room, disrupting their moment of intimacy. The old woman might not be fast but she moved with more dignity than Cynthia could imagine.

Hurriedly stepping away from James, Cynthia smiled in greeting. How was she ever to resolve everything if she never had more than two minutes alone with James?

“You know me too well, my dear,” James said, smiling at his aunt and giving her a gentle kiss on the cheek—but all the while his eyes held Sin’s, letting her know this conversation was not over.

Didn’t he feel the same frustration she did? It was so hard to tell. She’d never thought him a man to hide his feelings, but about Aunt Prudence he was always perfectly pleasant.

“I doubt any woman knows you too well,” Aunt Prudence added, her smile far more knowing than Cynthia expected. “I am sure you’re used to keeping your secrets tight to your chest.” She turned to Cynthia. “I thought you might like to take a turn about the gardens with me. I do like an arm to hold on to.”

The gardens? At this time of year? Did Aunt Prudence realize it was still February? But it was hardly a request Cynthia could refuse.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, girl. I know it’s cold and that you have had more than enough cold, but a lady still needs fresh air and a chance to stretch her legs.”

“I am sure you are right. I would be most pleased to stroll with you.” She sent James a look of despair. This was not what she’d planned when she agreed to spend a few days with him. Hadn’t they decided that Aunt Prudence would make a horrible chaperone—even if they hadn’t explicitly put it in those terms?

“Perhaps I’ll join you,” he said. “I am sure a gentleman also needs some fresh air.”

Aunt Prudence stopped and glared at him, her wrinkled brow fierce. “I happen to know you were out walking the fields and discussing the coming planting this morning. I doubt you have any more need of air.”

“Well, perhaps I enjoy your company.”

“I doubt it’s my company you enjoy and I am also sure you have ledgers to look over.”

“But—”

“You are being a bore, James. I wish to talk to Lady Cynthia, to share a good gossip. I certainly do not need you diddling about.”

James opened his mouth again, shut it, and then replied, “Of course. Shall I see you in the parlor for a sherry before dinner?”

Aunt Prudence nodded her approval. “You do know me well, boy.” Then she held out her arm to Cynthia and together they marched—there was no other word for it—off.

“I’ve never seen anyone speak to him quite like that,” Sin said. “He always argues with Jasmine.”

“You’ve clearly never seen him with the duke, then. Scarlett does not allow for arguing.”

“I suppose that is true, but…”

“And Langdon takes after his father. I rather think that’s why James has a tendency to be bossy. It must be difficult to be a natural leader and yet always be subservient. He would have been much better as a first son. Although I cannot imagine Langdon as a second son. That boy was born to be a duke.”

Cynthia wasn’t quite sure what that meant beyond that Langdon had always liked to be in charge. He’d been incredibly overbearing when she was a child, not that he’d deigned to spend much time with the “baby girls,” as he’d taken to calling them. “I will allow that James does like to be in charge. I have not spent enough time with Langdon in recent years to speak to his personality.”

“So politely put,” Aunt Prudence said, wrapping herself in a heavy shawl and handing one to Cynthia.

The two women walked into the gardens, arm in arm. The flat stones of the path protected them from the remaining mud and the plantings were surprisingly becoming for the season, everything neat and cut back. The evergreens showed to wonderful effect even with the weather cold and dismal. Cynthia had not really wished to venture outside, but had to admit Aunt Prudence had been right, a little fresh air was good for the soul.

“Are you going to marry my nephew?” Aunt Prudence asked, drawing to a stop.

What? Where had that question come from? “You mean the duke? I believe he already has a wife?”

“Don’t play coy with me, girl. I mean Lord James.”

“Why would you ask such a thing?”

“You did arrive with him and unaccompanied.”

“I had an accident.”

“I am sure that you did, but that still does not explain the lack of a maid. At very least you should have had a story about how she’d been injured and— Oh, don’t interrupt. You should have had some reason why you had no female companion of any type. It is important to keep up pretense.”

Aunt Prudence was correct about that. Cynthia had not even considered the issue. “I was in a hurry to see my sick friend.”

“And yet you do not seem in a hurry to get to her now.”

Why did lies always become so complicated? “I will leave as soon as I feel rested.”

“And how rested do you have to be to visit someone? And if you tell me the road is long and hard I will ask again why you do not have a companion. It might—and only might—be excusable for a short trip, but I cannot believe you would undertake a longer voyage alone—and you also have not explained what happened to your coachman or any outriders.”

“I…I…”

“Oh, and I haven’t heard of any of my neighbors having sick daughters. It was a woman you were planning to visit, was it not? Where exactly were you heading in the middle of the storm that stranded you?”

Cynthia shut her mouth, unsure what to say. Had Aunt Prudence already asked James these questions? And why was she suddenly so astute. She’d had days to ask these questions. Why now? This was not the woman Cynthia had seen in the past. Was Aunt Prudence trying to trick her—and if so, what was the correct answer? Was she supposed to wish to marry James or would Aunt Prudence think she was trying to entrap him?

Aunt Prudence continued to stare. “I don’t seem so witless now, do I? I am surprised that James didn’t prepare better. He is normally not so careless.”

“No, he’s not careless.”

“Which means he wishes to marry you and you are the one dragging her heels. Why?”

“I wouldn’t say he wishes to marry me, more that he thinks he should.”

The stare turned to a glare. “And you don’t wish to marry unless he loves you. Why are the young always so shallow and stupid? And yes, I do mean stupid. James is kind, eligible, wealthy, and even I can see the sparks between you. What could you object to?”

Put that way it did make her sound stupid, but…“I don’t think it is unreasonable to not wish to be forced.”

“Women are always forced. Would any of us marry if we truly had a choice?”

Well, Aunt Prudence had not married, but it didn’t seem a polite thing to say. “There is a difference.”

“Only to the young. You should grab James while you have the chance and before any actual scandal develops. I don’t know what circumstances brought you together at this time, and I don’t want to, but I do remember how you used to gaze at him with moody eyes when you were a girl. I am not confused about that.”

“I am just not sure.”

“Then get off your high horse and be sure.” Aunt Prudence began to pace away.

Cynthia waited a moment and then followed. Where were her ready wits? There had to be some reply that would explain how she felt. “I don’t want him to marry me because he feels guilty, when he—”

Prudence stopped again. “And what would he feel guilty about?”

She should not have said anything. “About being alone with me.”

“James would never feel guilty about something so trivial—nor would he decide upon marriage.”

“I still don’t understand why you believe that he has.”

“Are you telling me he hasn’t?”

“Well, he hasn’t asked me.” Not exactly. No matter the form of the words, it had definitely not been a question.

Aunt Prudence gave a light laugh. “You won’t fool me that easily. I am sure he simply told you that the two of you should wed.”

Cynthia did not reply.

A maid came out the door and waved, indicating she needed to talk to Aunt Prudence.

“Oh drat,” Prudence said. “They have probably forgotten the dinner menu or can’t remember which set of china should be used. I will have to excuse myself. Do you wish to come in or wander the gardens a bit longer? The maze is still pretty this time of year.”

She’d never been fond of mazes, but she was eager to get away from Aunt Prudence’s questions. “You were right. It is pleasant to be out, even with the chill. I will walk farther.”

When the doors had shut behind Prudence Cynthia turned and strode toward the high hedge, deciding the entrance to the maze must be somewhere along it. The thick boxwoods rose beside her and she bowed her head, staring at her already ruined slippers. Prudence had offered her a new pair, but they’d been several sizes too small. Perhaps she should have asked if one of the maids had a spare pair, but then it was doubtful that any of them did and she would have hated to take someone’s sole pair of shoes.

It was so much simpler to think of shoes than to think of her earlier conversation with James, to wonder what he meant when he said he wanted her to be happy.

“Did Jamie ream you?” a voice asked from the other side of the hedge.

Cynthia looked up. Was somebody speaking to her?

“Not as much as I expected,” another voice answered, this one familiar.

“Truly. I would have thought his lordship would have pulled out a crop.”

“I think he did not mind finding himself alone with the lady.”

“That I can understand. I’d certainly not complain about leaving my boots by her bed.”

“I’d be careful of such comments if I were you, lad. You never know who might hear.”

Cynthia froze. Did they know she was there?

“Still, did you see the arse on her and the legs?”

“Keep your lips sealed, Michael.”

“But—”

“I mean it,” Pete cut in. “A man never gets ahead by talking badly about his betters. Although I will admit it was hard to miss those legs, showing them off as she was.”

Heat rose up her cheeks. She’d hoped nobody had noticed her legs. She should have been more careful, but she hadn’t been quite awake.

“Jamie is a lucky man.”

Pete chuckled. “He always has been. Who else would find himself alone in the old shepherd’s cottage with the wrong woman and have it work out so well?”

“Well, it certainly would have been a different night if it had been his sister.”

“That’s true. I do hope he doesn’t send me back to London to fetch Lady Jasmine. One abduction is enough. And the wife was most displeased that I was home so late in that weather. Claimed she’d worried the whole night long. And keep those lips closed. There is no right comment you can make when a man complains about his wife. If you agree, you insult her, and if you disagree, he’ll still take it amiss.”

Cynthia supposed that was true. There were so many times when the best thing to do was nod and say nothing.

“I still don’t believe that he didn’t say anything about you grabbin’ the wrong lady.”

“I didn’t quite say that—”

But Cynthia heard no more. Her brain had filled with red mist. The wrong lady? Grabbing the wrong lady? It had taken her a moment, but now the words pierced her.

James was responsible for her abduction—not the duke. James had tried to take Jasmine, but he’d ended up with her. He was responsible for everything that had happened in the last days.

So much for his wanting her to be happy. Every suspicion she’d had coalesced into a steaming ball of anger.

Was Sin ever going to come back in? James paced across the small parlor, ignoring its delicate furnishings. It had always been his mother’s favorite room when she was in the country. He’d arranged to have Aunt Prudence called and had hoped Sin would come with her. With Prudence distracted there were several spots in the house he could sneak away to with Sin. When was the last time anyone had visited the long gallery? And it would be the perfect excuse to say he’d wanted to show her the family portraits—and perhaps a few other of his favorite paintings. Or he could give her a tour of all the unused bedrooms in the south wing, although it would be harder to explain such a detour. Perhaps he could claim to be showing her the bedroom Henry VIII had slept in. Although why anyone would have an interest in that dusty old chamber was beyond him. The oldest part of the house had not held up as well as one would have hoped.

He walked to the window and stared out. Did those clouds look like they might be bringing more rain? He hoped not, although maybe rain would drive Sin back into the house. She could be no more eager to be soaked to the skin again than he.

Pete and Michael came around the edge of the maze, carrying a couple of frost-bitten cabbages. No doubt a treat for the horses, from the kitchen garden. He’d have to be sure that he instructed them to stay out of sight. The last thing he needed was for Sin to see them again and to start to wonder further about her abduction. Perhaps he should send them to one of the other estates for a week or two. By that point he should have Sin’s agreement to marriage and then it would not matter. All he really needed was time.

He’d seen the look in her eyes before Aunt Prudence had come into the hall. Sin had wanted to be alone with him, had wanted his touch. She had not been pleased at all when Prudence took her walking.

So why wasn’t she back?

Was she hoping he’d come look for her? If he couldn’t see her, it probably meant she was in the maze, and he knew the maze well, knew every dark corner. His mind filled with laying her down in the grass, opening her bodice, lifting her skirts. He’d love to see the warm sun moving over her pale skin, to see her hair spread in the soft green grass.

Of course, none of that was likely to happen in February.

And although he’d read on her face exactly what she thought of the dress she’d borrowed from Aunt Prudence, he doubted that she’d be willing to ruin another dress in the mud.

Where else could he take her? Nowhere outside. Every place even remotely possible would be too reminiscent of the cabin and he wanted to keep her thoughts from traveling in that direction.

A flash of color through the hedges. Yes, Sin was in the maze.

Should he venture out? Even with the weather, a couple of stolen kisses should be possible—perhaps a little cuddle and feel. His hands burned with the need to cup her ass.

And if none of that was possible, there was always conversation—and talking to Sin was just as attractive as…Well, he couldn’t go quite that far, but he’d rather spend time with her any way possible than another moment alone.

Making up his mind, he called for his coat.

Cynthia heard him walking toward her. It might only have been less than a week, but she knew the weight and pace of his tread. She was tempted to flee. Fury still filled her at his deception. What was she going to say to him?

She took three steps away and then stopped.

That would not solve anything either. He would find her wherever she went. He always had been determined.

Turning, she pulled back her shoulders and pasted a smile on her face, her mind churning quickly. Until she knew what she wanted to do it would be foolish to antagonize him or put him on guard. And she’d be foolish to say anything here. Circumstance had just proved you never knew who was standing on the other side of the hedge.

“I thought you were pursing your ledgers,” she said as he came around the corner.

“I can only stare at numbers for so long before my eyes begin to cross. It’s the one aspect of managing the estate I have never been fond of. I am perfectly competent, but I’ve never found arithmetic fun.”

“Who does?” she asked.

Jasmine. The unspoken name hung between them. Jasmine had always loved arithmetic. Even when she’d been little, she’d enjoyed adding long columns of numbers. She’d kept the household accounts for the last several years and Cynthia knew it had been her favorite part of the day. Strangely, she’d been happier adding up columns of numbers than choosing a new gown.

Cynthia had never understood it. She certainly knew how to add columns and keep accounts, but she would never have described it as enjoyable.

A finger tapped on her nose. “You are thinking again.”

“Do you not like women who think?” The question came out a little sharper than she’d meant.

“I am fine with women who think, as long as they are thinking about me.” The side of his mouth quirked up.

Her eyes settled upon it. She knew he was teasing, but in this moment the words felt far too true. “And how do you know I was not thinking about you?” She tried to sound coquettish.

“You were thinking about Jasmine.”

“And you were, too.” For the briefest of moments her resentment died. He did know her too well. They both loved Jasmine. It should have united them, but instead it seemed to be one more thing that stood between them.

“Yes.” He took a step back, and turned away. “I can’t help wishing things were different.”

This would be the perfect chance to say that she knew what he had done, knew that he had arranged the abduction, but she held her tongue, unsure exactly what her goal was. “My mother used to say something about how wishing didn’t make it so, but I don’t remember her exact words.”

He stopped. “I think I remember that.”

“I don’t remember you visiting my house with Jasmine.”

He turned back toward her. “I think it must have been when you were very young. I have memories of being at your home when you could barely walk. I admit it’s strange that I should remember something your mother said, but I can see her sitting in the garden with my mother. I think there was a game of croquet being played.”

Again memory fought with her current feelings. Her mother’s death, a little less than two years ago, had left an empty space inside her and James’s memory crept into that space, making her wish to hear more. “I don’t remember that at all—I am not sure I ever remember croquet being played on the lawns at home.”

“I think your father won. Your mother stood beside him as he grinned like a fool.”

“Which probably means that she could have won if she wished. It was a joke between my parents. My mother had a talent for games of all types and yet she never won, didn’t consider it ladylike.” She snorted. “She despaired of me. I like to win.”

“So our mud fight proved.”

“I am not sure that I won that.”

“Don’t you think so?”

She stopped to consider. “Perhaps we both won.”

“I will accept that,” he said, and again her gaze fell to his lips, remembering that single sweet kiss.

He stepped closer.

Suddenly she did not feel so cold. “I am glad.” It seemed impossible to move her gaze from his lips.

She licked her own, which suddenly felt dry.