My Seductive Innocent (43 page)

Marguerite narrowed her eyes. “I’ve heard about your wife, though I’ve yet to have the privilege to meet her. Seems she’s not quite as mousy as when you left.”

“I was kidnapped. I did not
leave.
”

“Yes, yes.” Marguerite waved her hand. “And while the cat was away the little mouse did play.”

“If you have something to say, Marguerite, simply do so. I’ve neither the time nor inclination to stand here listening to you spout twisted proverbs.”

“I’d have sworn it wasn’t possible, but with your beard, tanned skin, long hair, and slightly nasty edge, you excite me even more than you did before.”

“Marguerite,” he said, barely controlling his temper, “I’m one second from throwing you on the street without your belongings or any money to get even a hack and a room.”

“Oh, all right,” she purred. “You’re not fun at all when it comes to your wife. It seems she’s been having a grand time in your absence. Ellison says she is the toast of the
ton
everywhere she goes. I hear—through gossip, of course—that she’s quite the coldhearted flirt.”

A vein pulsed in his neck, and his stomach twisted. “You are mistaken. My wife is neither a flirt nor coldhearted.”

“That’s not what Ellison says. He says two young bucks in Yorkshire fought a duel over her, and she turned both their offers of marriage down flat.”

Could that be true? He refused to believe Sophia would act the trollop. Besides,
he
thought her beautiful, but she was not a classic beauty who would lead a man to act a fool.

She has your heart
, his inner voice said. But that was different.

“I’m certain Ellison is mistaken.”

“Then he is not the only one. One of my, er, other
admirers
relayed a story about your duchess in which she was at the Duke and Duchess of Aversley’s house party and had one man sing to her, one man write a poem for her, and another act out a play he had written about her. All in the effort to win the chance to partner with her in a scavenger hunt. And then she turned around and picked a different gentleman as her partner!”

“I am sure,” he drawled, “it was because she thought those three gentlemen utter fools.” And when he found out who had been trying to win his wife’s affection, he was going to make sure they damned well understood it was time to quit.

Marguerite cocked her head to the side. “I do not think that was it at all. I think your wife has developed a penchant for naughty rakes. I daresay she developed it when she was married to
you
. She chose Lord Roxbury as her scavenger hunt partner, and Ellison said they disappeared for quite some time, even
after
everyone else had returned to the house. I wonder what could have possibly taken them so long...”

Nathan gripped Marguerite by the arm. “Moreland!” he shouted, losing his hold on his control.

His butler and a footman appeared immediately. Nathan stared at Marguerite as he spoke. “The lady is leaving
now
. Prepare the carriage to drive her anywhere but here.”

“You’re a devil!” Marguerite screeched.

“I was,” he retorted, handing over Marguerite to the footman, who helped her out the door, against her will, as gently as he possibly could. When the door shut, what was left of Nathan’s control snapped. The first thing he broke was a vase his mother had loved. Then another one she had hated but had bought because it was expensive. Then he threw a chair and sent his fist into the wall, splitting open his knuckles. He glanced at the blood oozing from the gash and he froze.

What the hell was the matter with him? Sophia would not do those things. Sophia was not his mother. She had loved him. She would mourn him. She would never turn into the sort of lady who disappeared at house party scavenger hunts with a man known to be on a quest to bed as many women as possible.

He glanced at the chaos he had created and groaned. He had to restrain himself. The barbarian he had become aboard the slave ship was not who he was truly. He simply needed to see Sophia and then everything would be all right. With that in mind, he hurriedly bathed, sat for a shave and a cut, then dressed quickly, and set off at full speed toward St. Ives.

S
ophia was so nervous she had goose flesh. Which was ridiculous. She had invited Mr. Frazier to her home tonight to bed him. Or was he bedding her? Perhaps they were bedding each other? Yes, that was it! That
was
how it worked. She fidgeted with the flimsy night rail she wore and sent a silent prayer to heaven that she would not toss up her dinner on Mr. Frazier.

The moment he stood from stoking the fire and turned to face her, her stomach churned queasily. She wasn’t ready for this. She clenched her teeth.
You are ready
, she commanded herself.

He strode to her with an easy smile and predatory eyes. The look did not surprise her. He’d told her last night exactly why she intrigued him, and it had everything to do with what they were about to do. He hauled her into his arms, then ran his hands up and down her bare flesh. “You’re still braw.”

“I’m what?”

He chuckled. “Culd.”

She nodded, though she knew by the perspiration on his brow that the room must have been blazing hot. When she was very nervous, she always became cold.

“Ah ken a surefire way ta warm ye up.”

She swallowed hard and nodded. Her nerves made it impossible to talk. As he took her hand and led her to the bed, she started talking to herself in her head.
You can do this. You will do this. You want this.
She kept the chant going as he leaned her back and his hands, hot like coals, touched her skin. She bit her lip on a cry and squeezed her eyes shut. Any minute she was sure to want him.

N
athan held the key up in the moonlight and kissed it. At the last moment, before he’d left his townhouse, he gone to his study and fetched the key to his country home that he’d left in one of his drawers. He’d worried he might reach St. Ives very late, and he was right. It was near midnight when he got there and the house was dark, except for some candles burning in the window of the master bedchamber.

Sophia.

His heart sighed her name. He crept into the house and then slowly made his way toward Sophia. His wife. His love.

I
t wasn’t that Mr. Frazier’s hands were not nice hands, or gentle hands, and likely they were skilled hands, but the moment they grazed her bare thighs and landed on her breasts, she knew she could not do this. His hands were not
Nathan’s
hands. Tears leaked from her closed eyes, and she rose onto her elbows to tell him to stop. But as she opened her eyes, an apparition of Nathan appeared.

She blinked, but he was still there.

Oh God! She was finally going mad.

She squinted at the mirage. He looked so real that her heart lurched. The odd thing was that he was gaping at her, and she couldn’t fathom why she would conjure an image of her unflappable husband looking at her that way.

Her heart tripled its speed as she stared at his mouth. It
was
hanging open. Then it snapped shut and twisted wryly, then twisted again and set into a threat.

Dear sweet heaven above! Her gaze flew to his eyes, and the raging anger simmering in the dark depths made her scream.

Nathan flew across the room, bellowing an animal sound like she had never heard. Her heart, which was beating so fast now that she thought it might explode, stopped and started again with a jerk that made her grab her chest. And then she was grabbing at the apparition, except her fingers clutched hard, hot flesh and bone. A wave of hysteria threatened to make her swoon, but she shoved it down.

He was real. He was here. And he was going to kill Mr. Frazier.

The huge Scot flew backward in Nathan’s grip, and the men fell to the ground in a heap that shook the furniture and surely woke the staff. Sophia scrambled off the bed, determined to pull them apart, but then she was simply trying to pull Nathan off Mr. Frazier. She wrapped her hand around Nathan’s bulging arm as he drew it back and then hit Mr. Frazier in the nose. It was as if she had no grip on him at all. He towed her entire body along with him every time he drew his arm back and struck again.

The
thump
of his fists meeting flesh vibrated in her ears.

“Nathan, stop it!” she screamed.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“You will kill him,” she yelled in his ear.

Mr. Frazier’s crunching bones made bile rise in her throat.

She released Nathan’s arm and yanked back on his hair, intent on making him listen, but her actions allowed Mr. Frazier to get free, and when he did, he came at Nathan with a wild look that caused her to scream again. This time Mr. Frazier’s fist connected with Nathan’s chin.

Nathan flew backward, taking her with him, and crushed her to the ground. The air left her lungs with a sharp hiss of pain. Nathan rolled off her immediately, and when it appeared he would continue the fight, she screamed, “Stop! I invited him here!”

At that moment, her bedchamber door flew open again and a footman rushed in.

“Get out,” Nathan ordered in a voice that made her shake.

The footman, eyes bulging, backed out the way he had come and quietly shut the door.

N
athan stood and looked down at his wife barely dressed in a translucent, white night rail that he swore to God was one that had been created for their wedding night. His mind careened for a moment at how she had physically changed. She was temptation incarnate with her dark, gleaming hair tumbling in waves down her back. That hair alone would drive a man wild, but a man would be driven to his knees to beg if he thought he could caress her lush curves, her perfect, heart-shaped face, and her generous lips. But her eyes were what had changed the most. He saw no warmth there. Those cold eyes would send a man to the brink grasping for the futile hope of her love.

This was the woman he had made a saint? This was the woman he had survived for? This was the woman he had allowed himself to love? Rage and disgust flowed through him. She had never loved him. She had dangled her love to make him want it, but she had never planned to give it. Thank Christ, she didn’t know he’d wanted to take it from her.