A Shocking Proposition (4 page)

His voice was absolute, and her heart skipped several beats as he drew her a little closer.

“Maddy, are you quite sure you don’t regret that letter?”

Mute, she shook her head, staring up at him. Surely—

“Well, in that case—” Strong hands enclosed hers, held them safe. “It was a very nice proposal, but I find myself quite unable to accept it, so—” She tried to pull away as pain slashed at her, but his hands tightened on hers. “Madeleine Kirkby, will you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage and be my wife?”

Her heart stopped as she stared up into the sea-gray eyes. “You’ll marry me? You want Haydon?”

“I want to marry you,” he said.

They stood in a sheltered corner between two of the buttresses, out of the worst of the wind. Soon, thought Maddy, she would wake up and realize that she had been dreaming, that she was still trapped in the nightmare reality of losing Haydon and failing her people. But here and now, in this dream with its biting cold, she had—

“Maddy?”

She realized that she hadn’t accepted. “Yes. Yes, please,” she said, very politely.

A sound that might have been a laugh escaped him. “Shall we seal that in the usual way?” he suggested.

She frowned up at him. He was still holding her hands. But she supposed it was a sort of bargain between them. “You want to shake hands on it?” She didn’t imagine he’d want to spit in his palm first.

This time he definitely laughed. “No. I’ve a better idea.”

Before she could even draw breath to ask what it was, he released her hands, but only to take her in his arms and bring her closer. Her breath shortened at the startling strength that surrounded her, held her. She had never been this close to a man. She had not realized that a man could be so...
hard.
Certainly she had not known it was possible to feel utterly safe and shatteringly vulnerable at the same moment.

“Maddy.” Somehow he’d shed a glove and his bare hand was under her chin lifting it. And not just lifting it, but feathering along the line of her jaw, tracing the curve while his thumb stroked across her lips. The shock of his touch burned through her, melting thought and scattering her wits.

Then his mouth was on hers.

She always thought, assumed, that kissing was a mere bumping of mouths, slightly ridiculous and possibly revolting if someone had bad teeth.

This, Ash’s kiss, was not a mere anything. Nor was it ridiculous or revolting. It was a revelation. His mouth moved on hers, warm and supple, a caress that not only stole her wits, but removed all desire for their return. Feeling was enough. Tentatively, unsure of the correct thing to do, Maddy returned his kiss and gasped, fire spinning through her as his arms tightened.

Ash thought he might explode at that first shy response. Her lips were so damn soft, so sweet, as they moved hesitantly against his. Torn between the aching need for more and the restraining knowledge that she was an innocent, he touched his tongue to her lips, licked into the seam. She gasped, her lips parting and he pressed into the honeyed sweetness, taking her mouth, tasting and teasing. Honey. Spice. Something that must be Maddy. God help him, he’d been wanting to kiss her since seeing her in Blakiston’s office the other day. He’d known he wanted to kiss her. He just hadn’t known how much. He certainly hadn’t had the least conception of how
her
kissing
him
would affect him. Nor had he realized just how good her slight curves would feel pressed against him. In short, he’d expected to kiss her, enjoy it, and be able to let her go.

He couldn’t. Not easily. With a savage effort of will, he broke the kiss. His breathing harsh, he held her. Just held her. Fiercely aware of her shaken breath, the soft curves pressed against him, the burn of his blood and the ache in his groin.

Two weeks and we’ll be married.

“This is going to be the longest two weeks of my life,” he said, not quite recognizing the rough voice that came from him.

* * *

Maddy took a deep breath, fighting back against the wave of panic. This wasn’t at all what she’d expected. Scions of ducal houses were meant to know all about marriages of convenience and what they entailed.

Marriages of convenience did not entail forbidden kisses under the walls of the castle. They did not entail finding oneself locked in Ash Ravensfell’s arms and wanting to remain there forever, pressed against his heart. They certainly should not entail this singing leap in her own blood and heart at the thought that he might want
her
, Maddy Kirkby. Not just Haydon.

He’s always been kind.
And...and honorable.

She let that first breath out and took another. “You don’t have to pretend pretty stories for me, Ash.” His arms hardened, but she forced herself on. “We both know it’s Haydon you want. I’m offering a marriage of convenience.”

She found herself set back from him in one swift move, his narrowed eyes boring into her as he gripped her shoulders.

“A marriage of convenience.”

She got her breath under control. Sort of. “Yes. You don’t have to pretend.”

“Pretend what? That I desire you?”

Why the devil did she have to blush? “Yes. That. You can’t—”

“Desiring the woman you plan to marry seems perfectly convenient to me.” His voice was cool. And there was no answer to that flawless logic. Not that she could make. He went on. “Men do that, Maddy. Desire women. All the time. Were you envisaging a marriage in name only?”

“What?” For a moment she didn’t follow his meaning. Then “—No!” She wasn’t such a ninny that she had expected that. Besides, she thought children might be rather nice one day.

“Good,” he said flatly. “Because you wouldn’t get it.” One long finger traced the line of her throat, set little flames dancing under the skin, stole her breath. “And,” he added softly, that wicked finger finding her frantic pulse beat, stroking, “I really can’t see a problem with us desiring each other.”

Desiring each other? Was that what she felt? “Er—”

“In fact,” he went on, as if she hadn’t tried to speak, “it makes it a great deal easier.”

She stared up at him. At the mouth, now faintly smiling, that had just kissed her senseless. All very well for him. As he said, men desired women all the time. And until he’d kissed her, she too had thought a marriage of convenience would be easy. Until she’d realized that her stupid, girlish
tendre
for him had required only one devastating kiss, one gentle caress, to flare back to inconvenient, embarrassing life.

An odd look flashed across his face. “Ah, you
do
know what happens, don’t you, Maddy?”

Her cheeks flamed. “Of course I do! I’ve brought plenty of rams and bulls to tup, and...” Her breath shortened and her heart pounded as his gaze seared her. “I...I mean, I know it’s not
exactly
the same, but—” Something in his eyes silenced her.

“I think,” he said, in a tight, strained voice, “that we’ve been out here as long as is safe.”

“Safe?” she asked.

“That’s correct,” he said, still in that strange tone. “You aren’t safe.”

She stared. “I’m not?”

“No. You aren’t.”

Chapter Four

Ash rode back into Haydon village just as dusk was falling on the afternoon of the twenty-third. It had been snowing lightly for the past five miles, and old Runcorn, the innkeeper, welcomed him heartily, handing him a cup of hot punch.

“Come you in, my lord. All’s ready. Will you be going up to the castle tonight?”

Ash gave him a narrow look as he sipped the punch gratefully. He had done his best to keep the betrothal quiet, worried that Montfort might trouble Maddy, but clearly the secret was out. “Not tonight, Runcorn.” As it was, his sleep had been disturbed for the past two weeks with anticipatory dreams of the wedding night. Which were better than nightmares, but he’d be damned if he’d take the risk of literally anticipating his vows.

Runcorn ushered him to the stairs. “Never you fear, m’lord. There’s only a few knows what’s afoot. And glad we are of it.” He shook his head. “A bad business thinking we’d lose the castle.”

Ash followed him up the stairs. Most of his belongings had been sent ahead to Haydon in the carriage that would carry Maddy to church on the morrow. All he had with him was a portmanteau holding enough for the night and his wedding clothes. And the marriage settlements, which he had collected from Blakiston on his way through Newcastle. His jaw set hard at the thought of those settlements. They would have to be signed tomorrow before the wedding, even though they were not quite as he had instructed. In fact, not at all. And there was no time to have them changed back, even if Blakiston would have agreed. As to that, he’d had not a single logical argument to advance when the wily old solicitor had pointed out that, as Miss Maddy’s trustee, he was bound both legally and morally to consider her wishes.

That might be the case, but he was going to have something to say to Maddy about this. His fingers tightened on a small object in his pocket.

* * *

The church vestry was a chilly little room, fragrant with camphor and wax. Maddy read the altered settlements through very carefully, to ensure they said what she wanted them to say. Satisfied, she picked up the pen and dipped it in the ink.

Signed by me
,
Madeleine Henrietta Fairfax Kirkby
,
this twenty-fourth day of December
,
in the Year of Our Lord Eighteen Hundred and Sixteen.

The pen ceased its scratching and Maddy set it back in the pen rest, careful not to drip ink on the settlement. This was much fairer than the original version. Mr. Blakiston had explained the details of that document very clearly when he brought the settlements out to her to read through a week ago.

You retain ownership of Haydon.
Should you predecease Lord Ashton
,
he has only a life interest in the property
,
which will then pass to your eldest son
,
or daughter if there is no son.
Should you die without heirs of your body
,
the trust is set up so that you may bequeath Haydon in its entirety as you please
,
the bequest to be effective upon the death of Lord Ashton.

There had been more. Every eventuality had been thought of. But the crux of the matter was that Ash had given Haydon back to her and her heirs absolutely. Under the terms of the original settlement Ash had asked Mr. Blakiston to draw up, Haydon would never really be his.

She was fiercely conscious of Ash standing behind her, waiting to sign. He had barely spoken to her when she arrived, his greeting curt, his eyes gray and cold as a winter sea. A tremor ran through her.
Heirs of your body.
She had lived in the country all her life. She knew how those heirs would be conceived. How could she not? But until Ash had kissed her, she had not known that a man’s touch could set her pulse awry and steal the breath from her body.

He was not angry with you then.

And he was definitely angry now. With her.

He came forward, tall and straight, every movement controlled and easy. Yet his mouth was set in a hard line. Her foot caught in the hem of her gown as she rose, but before she could even stumble, his hand was there, under her elbow, steadying her. Through the velvet sleeve of her gown and the leather of his glove, every nerve sang at his touch and the strength in those lean fingers, even as they bit into her arm. She said nothing but at her sharp intake of breath, he released her and stepped back.

Heart pounding, she waited while Ash signed the documents, his face coldly expressionless, and his brother the duke and Mr. Blakiston witnessed the signatures. There were three copies, now all formally signed and witnessed. One would be kept with Blakiston, one at Haydon and one with the Ravensfell family records to safeguard both parties to the transaction. She had to remember that, no matter that Ash could set every nerve in her body alight, it was just that: a business transaction.

It was done. She hoped.

“It...it is binding, isn’t it?” she asked. “Legally?”

Mr. Blakiston nodded. “This is your twenty-first birthday. You are of age and your marriage—” he pulled out his watch “—in half an hour will ratify the contract, bring it into force.”

The vicar, Mr. Parmenter, was hovering in the background. “Perhaps, Miss Kirkby, you might like to come back to the vicarage for a few moments. A time for solemn reflection and prayer?”

Ash spoke. “I should like to speak to Miss Kirkby for a moment.” His voice was as hard as the gaze that held hers. She swallowed. What had happened? They had signed the settlements. Surely he wasn’t having doubts now?

She hesitated. “Thank you Mr. Parmenter, but I should like to speak to Lord Ashton privately, please.”

The vicar frowned. Clearly leaving the bride and groom alone
before
the wedding, whatever had to happen afterward, was not at all usual. Especially not in his vestry. Bad enough that the wedding was so hasty, and there had been this mad scramble to sign the contracts within half an hour of the wedding. He opened his mouth, probably to object—

“Of course, of course,” said the duke cheerfully. “The duchess and I will accept your offer, Parmenter. Very kind. A cup of tea would be just the thing, wouldn’t it, my lady?”

The duchess rose to the occasion. “Indeed it would.” She shepherded the vicar out with a question about the stone carving around the font. “Most interesting. Quite unusual. Is it Saxon?”

The door clicked shut behind the duke and they were alone.

“Why the changes to the settlements, Maddy?” His voice was clipped and hard.

Maddy frowned. Was that all that was bothering him? “They weren’t fair. Essentially they gave Haydon back to me in its entirety. Now it will belong to us jointly.”

Ash muttered something under his breath. “Damn it, Maddy!” he went on. “The settlements were supposed to protect you!”

“They still do.” she said. “Now they protect you as well. And if I die without heirs, Haydon is yours.” Most marriage settlements ensured that any property brought by the bride ended up firmly in her husband’s hands, unless her relatives or trustees insisted otherwise. Under the circumstances, having practically begged Ash to marry her, she had not made any stipulations to the contrary.

“What the devil were you thinking?” he demanded. “Haydon should have been yours, Maddy! And I don’t need protecting!”

“No, but—”

“So,
why?
Why did you do it?”

“Because I wanted Haydon to be
ours
,” she said, simply. “It’s more mine, that way.”

His jaw dropped. “Then perhaps my birthday gift is not as foolish as I feared,” he said, very softly. “Here.”

He reached into his pocket and drew out something small. “We found it together,” he said, handing it to her.

It rested in her hand. Small, solid and warm. The little bronze horse that had endured hidden for so long. Maddy’s throat tightened as she saw again the bright summer’s day he’d found it, the sky a wild arc of windswept blue above them, and Ash, his fingers and eyes reverent as he brushed centuries of dirt from the little figure. In a queer way it was not just a gift from Ash, but from Haydon itself, to both of them.

A gift from the past, to their future. Her fingers closed over the little horse as tears pricked the back of her eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered, and stretched up on tiptoe to kiss him.

She was aiming for his jaw, but somehow with a slight movement of his head, she missed. The kiss landed full on his mouth, his very willing, ready mouth, and she was in his arms. The world rocked, tilted wildly for a single mad moment, as his mouth possessed hers and his arms tightened. Every nerve, every fiber of her body sang, blazed with need. Then with what sounded remarkably like a curse, he released her and stepped back.

“We had better,” he said carefully, “join Gerald and Helen with the vicar.”

* * *

Ash barely noticed the church filling up behind him as he waited by the chancel steps for Maddy. She had blindsided him. And not just by the alterations to the marriage settlements. Although that was shocking enough. He’d instructed Blakiston to draw up the settlements so that Maddy was completely protected. Even from himself.

No, that wasn’t what had really shocked him. What had done that was the fact that despite all the lectures he had read himself over the past two weeks, the moment she had drawn close and he had breathed that sweet, lavender-and-Maddy fragrance, he’d been hard and aching. And when she’d touched him, reached up to kiss him, he’d been close, God help him, to making the vicar’s worst fears fact.

He shoved those thoughts aside. He’d given her the little horse, a talisman he’d carried with him for years as a reminder of home. Every time he had looked at it he had been back on the fells with Maddy, the summer sun bright above them in a wide sky. He’d never thought to part with it, but this felt strangely right—she’d given him herself and a home; he’d given her the reminder. Somehow in giving it away, he’d kept what had always been most important about the little horse.

The stir at the back of the church, murmurs and shuffling, had him turning to look. There, bright in the dim interior of the old church, was Maddy, glowing in amber velvet, on Mr. Blakiston’s arm. He had not understood quite how bereft Maddy was of family until he realized that Blakiston would be giving her away.

Watching her now, walking toward him, her head high, he vowed to make sure she was never lonely again. That she knew she had a family. His family, and the family he hoped they would make together.

But perhaps she wasn’t quite alone...the people of Haydon filled the bride’s side of the church—men, women, children and even a couple of infants in their mothers’ arms. Smiles and blessings followed in her wake as she came to him at the chancel steps.

* * *

“Dearly beloved—” The vicar began the marriage service and the familiar words washed over Maddy. So many times she had stood in this church for the wedding of one of her people. Now it was her turn. Soon she would be married. Haydon would be safe.

She glanced sideways at Ash and felt the shattering leap of her heart at the sight of him, tall and strong beside her.

“... is not by any to be enterprised, nor taken in hand, unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly, to satisfy men’s carnal lusts and appetites, like brute beasts that have no understanding; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly...”

Heat stole across her cheeks. Reverent and sober were about the last words applicable to the way Ash had kissed her. Hopefully the warning meant that marriage was not to be entered into
only
to satisfy carnal lusts....

“Therefore if any man can show any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace.”

The vicar paused and glanced around the church. He drew breath and continued. “I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgment when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment—”

The west door crashed open.

“
Stop!
”

Shock slammed into her, along with the blast of cold air. Stunned, she turned. Edward was striding down the nave, flanked by two of his men.

The vicar drew himself up. “Lord Montfort—”

“The marriage cannot go ahead,” announced Edward. “I forbid it.”

Maddy’s temper flashed. “You cannot forbid it. I am of age, and—”

She found herself set gently aside. Ash had stepped forward, placing himself between her and Edward. “This is for me to deal with, Maddy,” he said quietly.

Facing Edward, he said, “You’ve no power to forbid it, Montfort. Madeleine is of full age to consent to marriage.”

“She is promised to
me
,” declared Edward.

Furious, Maddy stepped forward, avoiding Ash’s arm when he would have held her back. “No, I am
not!
”

Edward ignored her. “She was promised to me and got in a huff when I glanced sideways at some worthless dairymaid. It was nothing, but she became upset, and—”

“Unfaithful
before
the wedding, Montfort?” put in the duke from the front pew. “A little unwise, wouldn’t you say?”

The duchess looked disapproving.

Edward gritted his teeth. “An indiscretion. One that won’t happen again. The fact remains that Madeleine is promised to me.”

“Witnesses?” snapped Ash.

Maddy went cold. Why was he asking for witnesses? Surely, surely he didn’t
believe
this nonsense?

Edward smiled, as if he scented victory and he gestured to the men with him. “These fellows heard my proposal and Madeleine’s acceptance. They’ll swear to it.”

Under Maddy’s hand, Ash tensed, the muscles in his arm rigid. “Really? You offered marriage in front of two of your...henchmen.” His lip curled. “That must have been a romantic moment. I on the other hand have a letter in Miss Kirkby’s hand, er, agreeing to marriage.”

His eyes narrowed, Edward said, “My proposal pre-dates your letter!”

Ash snorted. “Of course it would. Probably so does Miss Kirkby’s refusal!”