Delight and Desire Page 4

  He had been trying to nurse his righteous fury for days. Now it was gone in an instant, like air from a punctured balloon. His whole body turned icy cold. He was going to lose her. And all to fill the Ritchie coffers, to replace the fortune her father had wasted in pursuit of an ancient feud. Lives would be ruined for the sake of Archibald Ritchie’s stubborn pride. Robert realised, shocked, that his own father was little better. He could have ended the feud, but he had not.

  It was a full minute before Robert could control the bitterness and frustration that flooded through him, and allow himself to speak. ‘Have you agreed to it?’ he snapped.

  She gasped. The colour drained from her face.

  ‘The gentleman is wealthy, of course. May I know his name?’

  She drew herself up haughtily, though she did not remove her hand from his arm. ‘You go too far, Major. You do not own me.’

  She was alone, facing a loveless marriage for the sake of her family. What was Robert’s plight compared with Isobel’s? Her burden would last a lifetime.

  He dared to touch his hand to hers. ‘Forgive me. I had no right to speak so. Miss Ritchie, I must be honest with you, even if my words should give you pain. I asked you to meet me here today, because I intended to ring a peal over you for your deception.’

  She shivered and turned ashen. Her fingers gripped convulsively on his arm. Her free hand went to her mouth, as if she were about to retch.

  His stomach clenched painfully at the sight of the distress he had caused. Words rushed out, unbidden. ‘And to make you a proposal of marriage.’

  He had said it. He had not meant to. But, as soon as the words were spoken, he knew she was exactly what he wanted, what he needed. He did not care a straw who her family was. Their idiotic feud could go hang.

  She was silent for a long time. ‘Intended, sir?’ she whispered at last. ‘I take it that you have now changed your mind?’

  He bit back a curse. ‘No, I have not! I would go down on one knee, here on this path, if I thought it would win you.’

  ‘I pray you will do no such thing, sir,’ she said instantly. ‘Think of the scandal.’

  ‘It is only because I am thinking of the scandal, and of the need to protect your reputation, that I do not take you in my arms and carry you off this minute. Isobel, will you not have me? I know we can find a way to—’

  ‘Your agitation is starting to attract attention, sir. Let us continue to stroll.’

  She was right. She was proving a much better tactician than he was. What on earth was happening to him?

  They continued for several minutes. Isobel spoke knowledgeably about various plants. The matter-of-fact discussion seemed to calm them both.

  He dropped his voice. ‘I ask your pardon for my outburst, ma’am. But I must ask you to believe that I am sincere in my proposal of marriage.’ She nodded slightly. She was looking straight ahead as they walked, but he knew she was listening intently. ‘I do understand your dilemma. Marriage to me would cause a rift between you and your family. Marriage to the man they have chosen would save your father from ruin.’ When she did not reply, he ventured, ‘Will you tell me about him? Your suitor?’

  She sighed. ‘It is almost the end of the season. No gentleman has offered for me.’

  ‘But I—’

  ‘No suitable gentleman has offered for me. My family cannot afford another season. All that money—’ she touched her muslin skirts and let them drop again ‘—has achieved nothing. And so my uncle has found another solution.’

  She swallowed hard. ‘His name is James Craigie. You would not be acquainted with him for he is a…a well-to-do merchant from Edinburgh. He has four pretty young daughters and he…he wants them to marry into society. He is prepared to pay to secure a second wife who can smooth their path.’ She shook her head. ‘He must truly love his girls, for my uncle has priced me very high indeed.’

  Robert bit back a curse. ‘Isobel,’ he said in a low voice, ‘the Anstruther estates are some of the richest in Scotland. I will pay double what your uncle asks. Forget this confounded feud. Marry me!’

  ‘My father would prefer ruin to such a union. And I am sure your own father would be just as much opposed. It is my duty to go through with this marriage. And it is your duty to forget me. We must not meet again. I am sorry, Robert.’ She lingered over his name. He fancied her eyes were sheened with tears but she turned her head away before he could be sure. He was losing her!

  They had reached one of the great trees. He pulled her round behind it and pressed her back against the trunk. Then he kissed her, hard and long and demanding. She tried to resist, but that lasted only seconds. Then she was kissing him back, pulling him closer, touching his cheek.

  ‘Miss Isobel!’

  They broke apart at the sound of the maid’s outraged voice.

  ‘Begone, woman!’ Robert snarled. The maid recoiled.

  ‘Isobel, there is more to marriage than money. Or duty. You know that. Have we not just proved it?’ He touched a fingertip to her lower lip.

  She said nothing. She straightened so that her back was no longer against the tree trunk. Then she stared at the ground.

  ‘Isobel, beautiful Isobel, marry me. I will find a way to make it right with your family. I swear I will.’

  She looked up. Her eyes were wide and glistening. ‘What about your own family? What if your father should disown you? What then?’

  He had not thought of that. He had not thought of anything except that sudden, all-encompassing fear that he would lose her. It was true he was the only child, but the Anstruther estate was not entailed. He had promised her the wealth of his family estates, but he did not yet own them. What if he never did?

  He had his army pay. And he had a modest inheritance from his mother. It was not much, but it would allow them to live on the fringes of society. They might even live better than the Ritchies did now. Surely that was preferable to marriage to the merchant Craigie?

  ‘I am not dependent on my father, Isobel. In any case, I do not believe he would cast me off, especially not once he has met you.’ Was that the truth? Robert could not be sure. His conscience prompted him to add, ‘Even if he did disown me, I could provide for you. We would manage well enough.’

  She had not moved. He seized her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm.. ‘Isobel, dear Isobel, I want you for my wife. I need you for my wife. Will you have me?’

  She bent her head, her voice the merest whisper. ‘Forsaking all others.’

  The words of the marriage service. Did that mean she agreed? ‘Isobel?’

  Instead of replying, she tucked her arm under his and drew him back to the path. She began to walk slowly towards the exit.

  ‘Robert, you ask me to choose between you and my family, between lo—’ She stopped. She had flushed a pale rose-pink. ‘You ask me to choose between my inclination and my duty. I cannot decide now, here with you. Will you give me time to think?’

  ‘If you will at least consider my offer.’

  ‘I will. I promise I will. But I must return home before I am missed.’

  ‘When will I see you again? How will I know your answer?’

  ‘I will send Annie to you.’

  ‘You will not use her to—?’

  She shook her head at him. ‘Whatever my answer, Robert, I promise I will deliver it to you in person. And now we must part.’ She withdrew her arm and dropped a polite curtsy. ‘Thank you so much for your escort, Major Anstruther,’ she said brightly. ‘It has been a pleasure. I hope we may meet again before the end of the season. Good day to you, sir.’

  With that, she beckoned to her maid and started for the exit at a brisk pace. She did not look back.

  ‘Miss Isobel?’ Annie had kept silent since they entered the carriage at the Physic Garden, but now she reached out a hand to clasp Isobel’s. ‘’Tis hard, my lamb, choosing between yer family and the man you love.’

  ‘What? Annie, what makes you think—?’

  ‘I don’t thin
k, lassie, I know. And I’ll stay at your side, whatever you do.’

  Isobel fumbled for her handkerchief and blew her nose. She would not cry. She had a choice to make, and precious little time to think about it.

  What could she do? She would not be permitted to refuse Mr Craigie’s offer once it was made. There was no salvation by that route.

  Robert had sworn he would find a way to make it right. Did she dare to believe him? Did she trust him enough to abandon her family, and her duty, simply for love? He wanted her. He had even admitted he needed her. But he had not said he loved her.

  Oh, it was tearing her apart. Love? Or duty? If she married Robert, if he did not succeed in reconciling their families, Isobel’s father would be left almost destitute. Could she bear to have that on her conscience?

  It was so easy for Juliet and her Romeo. Juliet did not have a family on the point of ruin. And she had Friar Lawrence to help her to follow her heart.

  The lovers had to die to end the feud.

  Oh, ridiculous! It would never come to that! There must be a way of persuading Isobel’s father to accept Robert. Surely she could find a way?

  The germ of a mad, impossible, outrageous idea settled in Isobel’s mind and began to grow.

  Chapter Five

  Robert stood staring down into the fire, her hasty note loose in his fingers. How could an innocent girl even think of such a thing? For she was innocent. He would take his oath on it. She—

  ‘Shall I light the candles, Major?’ It was Grant, Robert’s army batman, quietly efficient as ever.

  Robert folded the paper and stowed it in his pocket. ‘I am expecting a young lady visitor, Grant. She must come and go without being seen.’

  Grant began to light the candles on the side tables. ‘That can be arranged, sir.’ He had not shown even a flicker of surprise. He finished stacking the piles of maps on the desk and looked up enquiringly. ‘You will not be wanting to discuss battle tactics tonight, I assume, sir? Shall I put these back in the store room?’

  Battle tactics? With Isobel? Robert was shocked into a bark of laughter. ‘Yes, if you must.’ He watched as Grant collected up the maps and other military papers and crossed to the furthest bookcase. When he touched the hidden spring, the bookcase opened a little way, like a door. Behind it lay the windowless room that the original owner had used as a private gambling hell. It was as dark and forbidding as a prison.

  Grant closed the bookcase again. ‘Shall I light the candles in the bedchamber as well, Major?’

  ‘No! What the devil should I want with candles there at this hour?’

  His traitorous body knew the answer all too well.

  ‘Miss Smith has arrived, sir.’

  Robert had heard no knock, nor the opening of the street door, yet suddenly she was here, standing in his hallway. She was closely wrapped in a thick dark cloak, with a heavily-veiled bonnet obscuring her face.

  He would have known her anywhere!

  ‘You are welcome, Miss…er…Smith. That will be all, Grant.’

  The moment the door closed, Robert propelled her into his sitting room and demanded angrily, ‘Have you the least idea of how dangerous this is? Visiting a man, unchaperoned, at this time of night? What if you should be recognised?’

  ‘Your man saw to it that I was not. And I am safer here than anywhere else we might meet, as I told you in my note. I believe my uncle is suspicious. He has employed a strange new manservant, who follows me when I go out.’

  ‘And has he followed you here?’

  She put back her veil. ‘No. I made sure my departure was not observed.’

  He could well believe it. Isobel Ritchie was no man’s fool. ‘Have you decided? Do you have a response to my offer?’ The words burst from him. His voice sounded much too sharp, even in his own ears. What was it about this girl that made him lose every last vestige of control?

  She appeared quite unconcerned. She strolled across to the roaring fire, stripped off her gloves and held out her hands to warm. Then, quite casually, she untied her bonnet and flung it on to a chair. Her cloak followed. Underneath, she was wearing a ravishing evening gown of deep red silk, in an extremely low-cut style that would not have disgraced a member of the muslin company. Her choice of dress was outrageous. And yet the sight of her stirred his blood.

  She looked across at him and smiled. Too knowingly. She must be perfectly well aware of his physical reaction to her beauty. No doubt she had dressed for just such an effect.

  A warning voice thrummed in his brain. In that moment of madness in Chelsea, he had offered for Isobel Ritchie, believing her innocent, and cruelly used by her appalling family. But now she was behaving like a practised courtesan. Had she lured him into proposing by firing his lust at the prospect of a rival? Did Craigie even exist? She was a Ritchie, bred in the bone. It would be sweet revenge to take Robert’s wealth and then cuckold him, the moment she had his ring upon her finger.

  He hated to believe such a thing of his twilight nymph. He knew he was letting ancient prejudice drive him. And yet he had to admit that it all fitted much too well. Especially with a Ritchie.

  Doubt was eating at him. He frowned sternly at her. ‘That gown, if you will permit me to say so, ma’am, is rather too daring for an unmarried lady. It provokes quite the wrong response in any red-blooded male. May I fetch you a wrap?’

  ‘You have a supply of ladies’ wraps here? How…er…unusual.’

  She was baiting him, probably quite deliberately. It was too artful by half. But however practised she was, she would not be allowed to win. ‘I am sure I can find something that will serve, Miss Ritchie. A towel, a quilt, a bedsheet, perhaps?’

  ‘A bedsheet?’ A slow, sensuous smile touched her mouth. ‘Yes, pray do fetch me one of those.’

  ‘I ought to strangle you with it,’ he muttered darkly, pushing past her to open the bedchamber door.

  She caught his arm before he could do so. ‘Robert.’

  He stopped dead. The touch of her fingers had set his arm aglow, and then the rest of his body. It was sheer torture. And she must know it.

  ‘Robert, I have come here to…to offer to share your bed. If you want me.’ By the time her incredible words were out, she was blushing to the depths of her décolletage.

  The change floored him. How could he doubt her? She must be a true innocent. Only an innocent could blush like that. Surely it must be so?

  She was staring at the floor, twisting her fingers together. Her earlier assurance had totally vanished. It must have been an act. But why?

  He seized her by the shoulders. He wanted to shake the truth out of her, but he knew he could never do such a thing to her, no matter what she was. She was here alone, completely in his power, and she would leave here as untouched as she had come.

  No, not untouched. She herself did not wish for that. She was offering to share his bed. And without having given him an answer to his proposal.

  He understood it all then. Of course! She was going to turn him down. However much she valued Robert, she valued duty, and family, more. But she was too honest to pretend that there was nothing between them. So she had come to give him a farewell gift, the gift of herself. And to ensure that he could not refuse her, she had chosen to play the coquette, to feed his lust until it overcame all sense of honour.

  Fear and anger gripped him, in equal measure. He could not prevent it from showing in his voice when he spoke. ‘I will not let you do this. You would dishonour us both. I will not send you, deflowered, to marry another man.’

  She did not try to struggle free of his grasp. Nor did she look up at him. Her words, when they came, were barely audible. ‘If I am to defy my family, Robert, I…I must be sure of you. That is why I offered—’ She hid her burning face in her hands.

  His heart began to gallop. Had he been so very wrong? ‘You will marry me, Isobel? Truly?’

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered. She raised her head. Her eyes were dry, but anguished. ‘Because you promised you would
make it right for my family. You have offered me a way of reconciling my duty with my…with my desire. Robert, I am trusting you to fulfil your promise!’

  ‘On my honour, I shall find a way to do so.’ It was a solemn vow. Somehow, he would do it. For this Ritchie siren who fired his blood to the point of madness.

  He dropped his hands from her tender flesh and took a step back. He had surely been mistaken in thinking her practised in the art of seduction. He must not treat her as if she were.

  He cast a quick glance towards the open door and the bed beyond. ‘Isobel, I— Isobel, there is no need for this. I do desire you—you know I do—but it can wait until after we are married.’

  ‘No.’ She moved to slide her hands behind his neck and draw him close. ‘No. This is what I want. Now. To seal our bargain. Kiss me, Robert.’

  For a moment, he tried to resist. But the touch of her lips on his was magic, conjuring up all the enchantment of that first twilight encounter. It began again as a simple kiss. Then, as desire mounted, it became a kiss of commitment, and of longing, with an exciting edge, for longing was about to become fulfilment. They both knew that now.

  Isobel dared to relax into him at last. Her spiky, top-lofty behaviour had been an act, a cloak to cover her fear of rejection. He had said he wanted her, and even that he needed her. But she was demanding that he mend a feud that had lasted for centuries. That was a huge price to ask from a man who did not love her. No sensible man would ever pay it, no matter how strong his body’s urges.

  As the kiss deepened, Isobel understood that Robert was not that sensible man. Her hopes emerged like a budding flower. She would give herself to him, now, and then her love would be able to bloom in the sanctity of marriage.

  When they parted, both were gasping for breath. Isobel looked him full in the face. What she saw in his eyes drained the last of the tension from her body. She let it go in a long sigh. He did want her. She could not tell exactly what he felt for her, but it was much more than mere lust.

  ‘You sigh? What is the matter, sweet?’ He sounded unsure. A bold soldier, veteran of many campaigns, unsure in the face of a willing virgin?