Wagered to the Duke (BookStrand Publishing Romance) (29 page)

For a moment Kate was almost too stunned to move. Finally, she rose from the bed, stepping silently past that sinful chaise with the sinfully positioned full-length mirror in front of it, and to the corner where the washstand was.

She stared down into the washbowl, as if she might divine a message from its bottom, a message that might explain why he hadn’t spilled his seed inside of her.

The obvious explanation was that he didn’t want to get her with child. The very thought of a child growing inside of her nearly took her breath away.

She was now at an age where she’d given up all hope of ever conceiving a child. Until this week, she’d even given up hope of ever being touched and pleasured by a man. Her mother had hinted that if she took the governess position with Mr. Throckmorton, he might in time decide to marry her, but it would likely be a marriage of convenience only, for he already had a half dozen children and Kate would not have to be bothered with what her mother called the intimacies of the marriage bed, and the subsequent pain of childbearing. Mother, in fact, seemed to think that Kate was entering a situation more ideal than any she’d ever read about in romantic novels or fairy tales. As if women would kill to become governesses and then wives of convenience to widowers with a ready-made passel of children! Why, even Nathan had mentioned earlier that Kate had committed a most noble act in trading places with Margaret Hathaway.

Until this moment, Kate had believed she’d bravely, if brazenly, taken control of her life back in York and put herself in a situation that was not only better than governess and putative bride to Mr. Throckmorton, but far transcended those romantic novels and fairy tales. For with everything she’d done, from the moment she’d traded places with Meg to the moment she gave herself, body and soul, to Nathan, for once in her life she felt as if she’d been mistress of her own destiny.

And now, she had the sudden, disconcerting thought that with the spilling of his seed all over himself, Nathan had just usurped her position and made himself master of that same destiny, steering it in a direction she did not want to go.

She dampened a towel and returned to the bed where he still lay sprawled, one arm covering his eyes as if he didn’t want her to read what was in them. His member had softened and shrunk somewhat. She gently daubed the towel over his abdomen and chest.

She decided there was only one way to approach this, and that was the direct way. “I assume you didn’t want to get me with child.”

He didn’t respond. Was he asleep already? She considered dunking the towel back into the washbowl then wringing it out over his head. Or even just dumping the entire washbowl over him.

“Nathan?” She lifted his arm from his face, and he gazed up at her with fathomless, blue-gray eyes.

His reply was just as direct. “But of course. You don’t want a wee bairn, do you?”

“Someday I do. But you don’t want to marry me, is that it?”

“I suppose you expect it after what just happened.” He said it more as a statement than a question. Still, his attitude disturbed her. She had the distinct impression he didn’t want to get married—at least not to her.

And all because they hadn’t met at a ball. The chits he’d been chatting with downstairs stood a better of chance of becoming his duchess.

Then why did he do what he just did? She was starting to fear he’d possessed her simply to make her undesirable—as if she’d ever been desirable to any man to begin with—to Lord Waldrop.

She padded back over to the washstand, where she took another towel and set about cleaning herself. “As a matter of fact, I don’t expect it. Certainly not from His Grace the Duke of Loring.” For the duke still retained the privilege of having any woman he wanted and marrying any woman he pleased. For that matter, as a duke, he could marry any woman he chose and
still
have any woman he pleased. Nathan apparently saw no need to do right by Kate, especially since he’d made certain not to plant his seed in her.

All he said was, “I see.”

She staggered about the room, searching for her clothes that he’d flung all over the floor. She hastily donned her shift and stepped into her drawers before picking up the beautiful, green gown she’d borrowed from Susannah for this evening.

“What are you doing?” Nathan asked from the bed.

She refused to even glance his way, for fear he might see the anguish swimming in her eyes. She felt ready to drown in it. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m getting dressed.”

“You’re not going back down to the—”

“Of course not. I’m returning to my own bedchamber.”

As she struggled with the buttons on the back of the gown, from the corner of her eye she glimpsed him sitting up. “Kate, you can’t leave here. What about Waldrop?”

“He doesn’t know where my bedchamber is, and besides, he’s probably left already.”

“Kate, I don’t want you out of my sight.”

“I’ll be fine,” she bit out as she picked up her slippers. “I’m the one who’s responsible for whatever coil I might be in.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh, isn’t it?” Her voice caught and nearly broke, and she realized to her horror that she was about to cry. She had to get out of this room before that happened. She couldn’t let him know that he was breaking her heart. “Am I not the one who insisted you take me with you to London? You didn’t have to, you know.”

“Oh, yes, I did. You could have been in danger—just as you’re in danger now—and as you know by now, I would never abandon you or anyone else to the perils of an unknown fate.”

Anyone else.
It wasn’t because of his feelings for her that he’d agreed to take her to London—after all, they’d just met, so how could he have had any feelings for her already? No, there was that principle peculiar to Nathan, rooted in his childhood, that dictated he could never leave anyone behind if he suspected for one moment they might encounter adversity otherwise.

“Kate, I’m begging you to please stay here for the night.”

“I won’t,” she said fiercely as she fumbled with the lock on the door. “I assure you I’ll be perfectly safe. My bedchamber door also has a lock. In the morning I’ll leave with you, because I do still wish to go to London. But I don’t think we should do again what happened tonight.”

“Aside from what happened at the very end, did you not enjoy it?”

She kept her back to him as the tears finally started to flow. “What do you think? Of course I did! I But I—oh, never mind.” She dashed out of the bedchamber, throwing the door closed behind her, and fled down the hallway. She reached the landing that looked down into the cavernous front hall, and from there she could hear the strains of the string ensemble playing something by Vivaldi. Or maybe it was Telemann. Unlike many people, Kate seldom got the two confused. Until now.

At least the ball was still proceeding as if nothing unusual had happened. She continued to the opposite wing of the manor and was halfway down the hallway to her bedchamber when she halted in her tracks, as it suddenly dawned on her that she’d left her spectacles on Nathan’s bedside table.

Curses!
Well, there was no way she was going back for them now. Knowing him, he wouldn’t let her escape him a second time.

She found her own bedchamber and, after locking the door behind her, threw herself across the bed as her heart shattered into pieces.

Trevor assured Nathan the following morning that no apology was required for what had happened last night. “Neither Susannah nor I expected Sir Niles Barnett to show up last night, let alone with such an unsavory friend—as if he might have any other kind. You know you’re both welcome to stay as long as you like, but we understand completely if you feel it necessary to continue on your journey.”

Trevor even offered the use of one of his own carriages to take them all the way to London. Nathan gratefully accepted the offer, though for at least the first leg of the journey, he decided it would be best to travel as an outrider and let Kate have the carriage to herself.

She looked thunderous this morning. Until he returned the spectacles she’d left behind in his bedchamber last night, he liked to think it was because she was only trying to squint to see where she was going. But no, even after she peevishly snatched them out of his hand and mumbled—more like grumbled—a begrudging thanks and slipped them back into place, she continued to look daggers, though she studiously avoided stabbing him with so much as a glance.

Which was not to say she wouldn’t want to stab him with something more lethal.

He and Trevor shook hands, while a short distance away, Kate and Susannah exchanged hugs and whispers. Soon they were on their way, Kate inside the carriage, with Bilby and the Ellington coachman on the driver’s box, and a groom on the tiger’s seat. Nathan rode ahead on his mount, not wishing to ride alongside the carriage where Kate might have to see him out the window, when she’d undoubtedly prefer to watch the scenery instead of his boots hanging over his horse’s flanks.

The scenery was another reason he preferred a mount for the time being. He loved Derbyshire, for in many ways the verdant hills and rocky peaks reminded him of Scotland.

A third reason was that he continued to dwell on what had taken place last night, and the memory played havoc with his loins as well as his heart. Being in the saddle didn’t help, but it certainly wouldn’t do for him to sit across from Kate in a rocking carriage while he was in an obvious state of arousal. Women, at least, could hide theirs. He could have no idea if she was thinking of what happened last night. If she was, her memories couldn’t be as fond as his.

Obviously, she felt he’d taken advantage of her, and he berated himself for having done so—or at least for having left her with the impression. He knew the only honorable thing now was to marry her. It would also keep her safe from predators like Waldrop and her stepfather.

But it wasn’t just honor and the desire to keep her safe that sent this idea flitting through his turbulent mind. It was something else, something he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before. Whatever it was, he knew it transcended anything he’d ever felt for anyone else. When he applied this feeling to Kate, it seemed to magnify and become more intense. He feared now that losing Kate would affect him just as deeply, if not more so, than losing the parents he barely remembered now.

To think he hadn’t wanted to make this journey in the first place, unaware it would lead him not only to London, but to something else. Someone else.

Someone he found when he wasn’t even looking for her.

When he’d set out from Edinburgh, his only thought was to reach London as soon as possible, for he disliked traveling and he knew why. It was that nightmarish incident from his childhood, when his much older half brother had abandoned him on this very road. Nathan couldn’t remember exactly where, but he’d always thought that if ever he happened to pass by the fateful spot, he would surely feel the same shivery shudder that legend dictated he should feel whenever someone walked over his future grave. Or maybe he hadn’t been aware of it, because he was so wonderfully distracted by Kate.

It would take them another two or three days to reach London, depending on the weather. He glanced up to see a sky dappled with fluffy, grayish-white clouds that could easily collapse into rain later in the day. Either way, the journey would end before he wanted it to—and he knew it was because he would miss her.

She might be furious with him now, but would she feel that way if she didn’t care for him the way he’d come to care for her? Surely not! When making love to her last night, he’d seen something in her eyes…felt something in her movements beneath him…heard something in her voice as she whispered his name while sliding her arms so sinuously around his shoulders as she tried to bring him closer to her.

That something was the same something he felt now.

That something was love.

He could declare himself to her at their next stop. But first, he should apologize for offending her, even though he wasn’t sure how he’d offended—unless she’d expected him to propose marriage last night. While the notion had certainly drifted through his head in the warm, dizzying afterglow, he hadn’t felt right bringing it up when they were both naked. It would have seemed as if he was proposing simply because of that, when Nathan knew now that he really wanted to marry her for a multitude of other reasons, not least of which was the conviction that he simply couldn’t imagine his life without Katherine Baxter, the self-proclaimed least likely bride of a duke, to share it with him.

They had several more days. He knew he could get back into her good graces again. First, the apology. Then the explanation. At that point, perhaps she’d consent to him riding in the carriage with her and they could talk some more, about what they felt for each other and the kind of future they both wanted.

Nathan knew the future he wanted included Kate. He only hoped she would agree.

They arrived in Derby at midday, where they stopped at a large coaching inn. Nathan swiftly dismounted and made sure to be right there when the carriage door swung open and Kate stepped out.

She was about to emerge when she stopped short at the sight of him, and for a fleeting moment he thought she looked as if she might retreat back into the carriage like a frightened turtle into its shell.

Tell her now!
Alas, there were too many coachmen and grooms and ostlers and horses and dogs and geese running and flapping about. The atmosphere was noisy and chaotic, especially since several other carriages crowded into the inn yard. It wouldn’t do to shout an apology to her. He decided to start by holding out his hand to her.

His heart drifted up a notch as he noted that at least she didn’t look as thunderous as she had this morning. Instead she peered back at him contemplatively, as if weighing the risks versus the benefits of taking his hand and allowing him to assist her out of the carriage.

Finally, she took his hand, and he helped her out as she glanced away again, though she did offer a mumbled—but thank the gods, not grumbled—thanks.