Annabelle's Courtship (22 page)

He had waited until the following day when she was feeling much more the thing.

Then he had taken her for a drive and by the time they reached the park with the duck pond, her ears had been ringing. She didn’t complain, though. She had been foolish and Ian had not shared her misfortune with Aunt Griselda or Robert. Besides, his fury was spurred by caring.

The music finally came to an end and she stood with Ian. She introduced him to an acquaintance that she knew was as batty about new farming techniques as Ian and Robert.

That should keep him occupied while she found Vivian and exchanged information. After

his fury over her following Mr. Thorn, she wasn’t about to risk another confrontation by telling him about her clandestine activities on behalf of women’s rights.

She excused herself from the discussion of fertilizers on the pretext of speaking to a friend. Which was indeed the truth, she consoled herself. She
was
going to speak to a friend. Hurrying up the stairs, she headed for the vacant sleeping chamber she and Vivian had agreed upon. Squeezing through the cracked door, she found Vivian already waiting.

“I wasn’t sure you would get away from your fiancé. Since you announced your engagement, he is never far from your side.” Vivian’s voice held a teasing quality.

Her words were nothing less than the truth. Ian had informed Annabelle that he no longer saw the need to pretend he wasn’t singling her out. It should be obvious, even to the densest members of the
ton,
that a gentleman would spend time with the lady he planned to marry.

“I introduced him to someone who shares his interest in horticulture.” Annabelle used the small candle Vivian had brought to light one of the wall sconces. “Did you bring the pamphlets?”

Vivian nodded and carefully rolled up her skirt to access the pocket in her chemise.

She pulled out some papers and gave a sigh of relief. “You have no idea how nervous I have been all evening. For some reason every time I moved, I could hear them crinkling.” She handed the crisp stack of folded leaflets to Annabelle. “I was terrified Ceddy would hear.”

“
Ceddy?
”

Vivian’s cheeks grew pink. “He told me to call him that. I could hardly refuse after all he has done.”

Annabelle smiled. “I do believe that you have developed a tendre for my old friend.” Nodding shyly, Vivian sighed. “Do you think it is possible that he shares my feelings?”

Remembering her impression of the other evening, Annabelle nodded. “I would say there is an excellent chance.” Then, impulsively, she leaned forward and gave Vivian a hug. “I am very happy for you. You must let me know the minute he comes up to scratch.”

Vivian hugged her back. “Oh, thank you.” She pulled away and straightened her gown. “I must go. I’m sure Ceddy will be looking for me.”

Annabelle waved her off. Then she turned away from the door and lifted her skirt, intent on getting the pamphlets secured so she could return to Ian. Her skirt got caught on the one of the flyers sticking out of the pocket and she tried to dislodge it without ruining the paper or creasing her gown.

“Annabelle. My dear.” The sound of a man’s voice from behind her shocked Annabelle into immobility. Then she whipped her head around and the unbelievable was true. Squire Renton stood not two feet behind her and was staring at her exposed legs as if they were a lobster patty and he was a starving man in search of food.

So great was her shock that she did not immediately react when he pounced on her and attempted to plant a kiss on her astonished lips. Regaining her senses at the last moment she turned her head and felt a wet smack planted firmly on her cheek. His hands roved down to meet hers, where they were desperately trying to get her skirt down. He caressed her bare thigh and groaned as if in pain.

“My dear, you are such a temptation.”

Taking a deep breath, she shoved against him with all her might, but his hold was much stronger than it appeared. She twisted violently, trying to get away from him.

“Let me go.”

He ignored her half-shouted plea. In her struggle, she tripped. The squire took advantage of her unbalance to tip her onto the bed, falling heavily on top of her.

“My dear, I have worshipped you from afar.” He placed wet kisses on her neck and face that made her want to gag. “You cannot be thinking of marrying that Scottish ruffian. He does not share your interests like I do.”

“Get the hell off my fiancée.”

Ian’s roar was loud enough to wake the dead. She was sure of it. When the squire, who had gone suddenly still, did not move fast enough, Ian grabbed him and tossed him away from her. Then Ian grabbed the hem of her dress, which had ridden up to expose most of her legs, and yanked it down.

The cold fury in his eyes terrified her. He would believe that she had betrayed him like his first betrothed. She could not let that happen.

“Ian, it is not what you think,” she said.

“I dinna walk into a sleeping chamber and find ye practically naked with a man on top of ye, doing his best to seduce you?” A tick in his cheek belied the conversational tone of voice Ian used.

“Well, I suppose it did look like that, but—” She wasn’t allowed to finish.

Squire Renton had picked himself up from the floor and spoke. “You must not blame the dear girl. She is merely a victim of her passion. Just as am I.” She stared at the squire. Had the man lost his mind? “I am not a victim of my passion.”

“My dear, you must not try to hide it. It is better for Graenfrae to discover our mutual affection and interests now than later.”

Fury tempered by pity coursed through Annabelle. Obviously the ridiculous man had developed tender feelings for her and in his besotted state, he had convinced himself that she returned them. It was not something she was familiar with. The hysterical urge to laugh almost overwhelmed her. Prior to this season, gentlemen of the
ton
had left her alone.

“There is no mutual affection.” Turning to Ian, she grasped his coat, “You must believe me.”

Ian looked down at her, his expression unreadable. “We will discuss this later.” She felt the cold weight of fear settle in her stomach. If only she had told Ian of her real reason for coming. An idea struck. She would show him the pamphlets. But she had to do it now, so he would believe her that she had just gotten them.

“No, Ian, we must discuss this now.”

She turned back to the squire. “Please go. I will explain everything to Ian.” The stupid man shook his head. “I cannot leave you to the mercies of this Scottish savage.”

Finally fury overcame pity and Annabelle stood. She stormed over to the squire. “He is not a savage, he is the man I love and you will do well to remember that. If you do not leave this very minute, I will not be responsible for my actions.” The man was more stupid than she thought. He actually took a step toward her. “Do not worry. You do not have to pretend. I will marry you. Your reputation is safe.” Annabelle wanted to scream. Instead, she took action. Pulling her arm back, she swung forward with all her might and punched the stupid man in the stomach. He doubled over.

“I do not wish to marry anyone but Ian.” She emphasized each word slowly, so the ridiculous man would understand.

Then, while he was still debilitated from her blow, she pushed him out the door and shut it. After turning the key in the lock, she faced Ian.

“Now, I will explain.”

She began rolling up her skirt again.

“Dinna think to sidetrack me with your body, Belle.” She stopped rolling and stared at him. She cocked her head to one side. “Why?

Would it work?”

He shrugged. “Perhaps.”

She resumed her task of lifting her skirt. She then withdrew the pamphlets. “I came in here to get these.”

Ian took the pamphlets from her and when he saw what they said, his grim countenance returned.

“I was in the process of hiding them in my chemise, when the squire leaped on me.

He must have followed me in here and when he saw my bare legs it was too much for him.”

The very idea was ludicrous to her, but what else could explain the squire’s inexplicable behavior?

Ian must not have thought it was such a strange explanation because he did not laugh. “What was all that business about your mutual affection?”

“I don’t know. It is true that we share some interests, but nothing more than that. I have never given him any reason to believe I encourage his suit.” She forced Ian to meet her gaze. “You must believe me.”

“Lower your gown, Belle, ’tis much too distracting.” She wondered how long it would take him to notice. “No.” He glared at her. “Nay?”

“Uh-uh.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to.” He moved toward her. “Why not?”

“I had hoped that if the sight of my bare legs would inflame the squire’s passion, it would do no less for you. Does it?” She couldn’t keep a niggling worry from her voice.

What if it didn’t? What if Ian had only used passion to convince her to marry him and now his true feelings would come out?

He closed the rest of the distance between them and pulled her into his arms. As he lowered his lips to hers he said, “The mere sight of you inflames my senses, Belle. You could be covered from head to toe with only the sparkle in your eyes visible and I would want to bed you.”

His lips swallowed her response. She released her gown to fall about her ankles and twined her fingers in his hair. His kiss said that he trusted her, that his passion for her was real and that she belonged to him. She melted against his length, content to be held by the one man she could give her heart.

Several minutes later, Ian pulled away. “We must stop, Belle. Your aunt will wonder where we have gone.”

She nodded. “You are right.”

Taking the pamphlets from where Ian had dropped them on the bed, she lifted her skirt for the third time that night. After securing them she turned to Ian. His brooding expression made her nervous.

“Ye canna keep exposing yourself to risk for your cause.” Her heart sank. “I cannot stop. It is too important.” He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “’Tis just what my gran-da thought.

He gave up everything for his cause.”

“What do you mean, Ian?” Finally, she would understand his mixed messages regarding her cause. He didn’t seem offended by the nature of the cause, but by the risks she took for it.

He turned away from her and moved toward the window that looked out into the black night. “My grandfather did not believe in English rule and he sacrificed everything to fight against it, his family, his estates, his life.” He swung back around to face her and the intensity in his eyes frightened her. “The price was too high, lass.”

“This is not the same thing, Ian. The fight for the Rights of Women does not require that sort of sacrifice.” He had to believe her. He had to understand. She could not give up the one thing that had saved her from despair after her parents’ deaths.

“No sacrifice? If you had been killed at the riot, would ye call that no sacrifice?” She shook her head. “But I wasn’t killed, or even in danger of dying.” Remembering the look on the angry man’s face when Ian tossed him away, she wasn’t absolutely sure on that point, but saw no reason to fuel Ian’s fear.

“And tonight? If our engagement had ended because of Renton’s actions when he caught you half-naked, would it have been worth it? No one would blame me for breaking our betrothal after what I witnessed.” He took her shoulders in a powerful grip.

“Is it worth it, Belle? Is it?”

Her throat constricted. She willed herself to stay calm. He did not mean it. He would not break off their association over something so trivial.

“Don’t make me answer that. Do not make me choose between you and my beliefs.” She couldn’t help it, her voice cracked.

He glared at her. “Dinna cry, lass.”

She brushed at the moisture under her eyes. “I’m not.” He sighed. “Aye, you are.” He opened his arms and after a brief hesitation, she ran into them.

“You won’t break the engagement, will you?” She spoke against his waistcoat.

He rubbed his chin on the top of her head. “Nay, lass. I fought too hard to get you.

I’m never letting you go.”

Her relief was so profound that her tears spilled over and slipped silently down her cheeks. “It will be all right, Ian. You must trust me.” He pulled away from her and met her gaze with tender eyes. “Aye. But you must compromise with me, Belle.”

Compromise sounded better than choosing between him and her beliefs. “What do you have in mind?”

“I want to know all of your plans before you do them and you will not attend any more lectures without me.” The tenderness in his eyes had given way to implacability.

She did not mind. “You would go to the lectures with me?”

“Aye. If it is safe to attend.”

She nodded. He would take some convincing at times, but she trusted him. If he promised her now, he would not renege later. He would not use estate business or a full schedule to get out of taking her. She sensed that Ian would always fulfill his promises to her to his utmost ability.

“I agree to your compromise.” She thought for a minute. She owed him complete honesty. “But there may be times I forget to tell you first. Sometimes, I act on the spur of the moment.”

His smile felt like the sun coming out after a bone-chilling fog. “I ken, Belle.” He squeezed her one last time before setting her away from him. “We must go. I have something of import to discuss with your squire.” The look of cold menace was back in Ian’s eyes.

“He’s not my squire,” she protested, offended at Ian’s choice of words. He clearly was not completely over his anger at finding her in the arms of another man.

Ian did not respond and moved toward the door.

“Wait. Ian, what do you need to discuss with Squire Renton?”

“’Tis between gentlemen, Belle. You need not concern yourself.” She flew at him. Grasping his arm, she shook it. “Tell me what you are talking about.” She had a terrible feeling that she already knew. “Ian, you cannot mean to challenge him.”

The idea was too ridiculous. This was the nineteenth century. Gentlemen had far more civilized means of settling their differences.