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Alex sighed. ‘How can I defend myself when faced with so much determination and hostility?’
‘You can’t, so don’t try. I’m sorry about what I did this afternoon,’ she said, feeling the need to explain her actions to him.
‘What—for threatening to shoot me or killing the rabbit?’
‘Both—but I wouldn’t have—shot you, I mean. Killing the rabbit was stupid, I realise that now, but—you see, I knew nothing about your laws governing poaching. Where I come from it is so very different. It’s not because we are uncivilised, it’s because some of us have to hunt to survive.’
‘I know.’
‘Do you?’
Alex nodded, his expression serious as he listened to her.
‘That’s how I was raised, you see—how it was for me and my mother when we left Ohio and returned to Massachusetts, and I can see nothing wrong with it. All I knew was hunting rabbits and wild turkeys and following fox. It was necessary. I make no apologies for that. However, I apologise if I offended you. When Mrs Hall told me your gamekeepers had not brought her any rabbits for some time, I thought I would oblige. Had I been told it was a criminal act to shoot rabbits, I would not have done it. Do you believe me?’
‘Yes,’ Alex replied, struggling to repress a smile, wanting to reach out and touch her fine-boned profile, tilted obstinately to betray her mutinous thoughts.
‘And do you promise not to destroy my rifle? It once belonged to a frontiersman and Will gave it to me, you see.’
‘I won’t destroy it. I promise,’ he answered, having some idea just how much that rifle meant to her. ‘When I returned to the house I put it in the gunroom along with the rest. That is where it will remain. You may look at it whenever you wish, providing that’s all you do—look.’
‘Thank you. That rifle and I have travelled many miles together—and it saved my life on more than one occasion on the journey over the mountains. Without it the wolves or black bears would have made a meal out of me in no time.’
Alex stared at her, astounded. ‘You shot bears and wolves?’
‘Yes,’ she replied, quite matter of fact, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do. ‘I had to. It was either them or me.’
‘Good Lord!’ Alex felt a stirring of admiration. He could not help but wonder at the grit of this young woman. She was truly remarkable. He had known no other like her, and the disturbing fact was that she seemed capable of disrupting his entire life, no matter what character she portrayed.
‘So you can see why I’ve grown rather fond of it.’ She glanced sideways at him. ‘I suppose that, knowing all this about me, I’ve sunk even lower in your opinion.’
‘Not at all. Quite the contrary, in fact. There isn’t a man I know who would have the courage to go out and shoot a wild bear,’ he replied, without a hint of mockery.
Angelina looked at him fully, probing the translucent depths of those clear grey eyes. ‘I expect you would.’
‘If I were confronted by one and I had a gun in my hand, yes, I would.’
She sighed. ‘But it’s not the sort of thing women do over here. You won’t tell anyone, will you?’
Alex smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘Your secret is quite safe with me.’
‘I can see I shall just have to try harder at being a lady.’
He grinned. ‘You’ll make it. Have you finished?’
She nodded.
‘Then will you allow me to have my say?’
‘If you must. But it will make no difference to how I feel.’
‘And how do you feel, Angelina?’ he asked softly.
‘I will tell you.’ She met his gaze coolly. ‘I don’t want anything from you. I don’t belong here. I never will. I want to go home, back to America—but I can’t go home. My mother saw to that when she made Uncle Henry my guardian.’
‘You are right. Accept it. Your former life is over—permanently. And as much as you are against it, as the ward of the Duke of Mowbray you must face the fact that you will have to make your début into society.’
‘I don’t want a Season,’ she cried explosively. ‘I will not have you browbeating me into it.’
Her dark eyes sparkled with anger, and Alex thought what a waste it would be for her to hide herself away, but then, better that than having to endure half the hot young bloods in London targeting her. He decided not to pursue that subject for the time being. ‘What is it that has made you feel you don’t belong here?’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I just feel it.’
‘I thought you liked Arlington.’
‘I do—but—but I would like to return to London,’ she said suddenly.
Alex took a deep breath. ‘No.’
‘Why not? After what happened between us earlier, I’d have thought you would be glad to see the back of me.’
‘Uncle Henry gave you into my care and authority. Until he returns from Cornwall this is where you will remain. Besides, there is no one in London to take care of you.’ When she continued to glare at him mutinously his face hardened. ‘And, of course, you know I’ll come after you if you spirit yourself away,’ he told her, knowing she was capable of anything, even running away.
Scrambling to her feet in a huff, Angelina was tempted to call him names that would have set his ears on fire, but, realising it would serve no purpose, she refrained from doing so. ‘Do you have contempt for women in general, or just me? Is it cruelty that makes you so obnoxious towards me, or are you naturally so?’
‘I don’t mean to be obnoxious and nor do I hold you in contempt,’ he countered, getting to his feet. ‘A moment ago I asked you to let me have my say. Please oblige me by doing so.’
‘Very well,’ she said primly.
‘First of all, I apologise for any offence I caused you when we first met in London. My affection and loyalty to my uncle clouded my judgement and it was wrong of me to upset you. Please forgive me,’ he said with disconcerting sincerity. ‘I was rude and boorish in my behaviour towards you and now I heartily beg your pardon.’
Angelina was astonished. She stared into those clear eyes, searching for mockery, the veiled contempt, but found neither. ‘You were rude and insulting,’ she agreed.
‘I know. I also know you would not have flouted the law so blatantly had you known it is a criminal offence to go around shooting rabbits—or any other animal unlucky enough to find itself within your sights, for that matter. I should have realised you had not been told and not reacted so furiously. I do not ask you to like me, Angelina, I only beg you to grant me some of your time so that I might present my case. In so doing I am sure you will reverse your opinion of me.’
‘I won’t,’ she said adamantly.
‘Nevertheless, it would be poor spirited of you to deny me that.’
Angelina stared at him, her eyes wide with astonishment. To be responsible for an offence, punished for it, to feel shame and bitter remorse and then be forgiven and absolved, was a succession of events beyond her experience. Rendered almost speechless by his apology and change of attitude, she welcomed it and yet she was suspicious, wondering why he was suddenly bent on charming her. She found him easier to deal with when they were engaged in open warfare than when he was being agreeable.
‘What are you saying?’
Sensing that she was wavering a little and that he was close to victory, Alex pressed home his advantage. ‘Only that a truce would not go amiss between us. That is the obvious solution, don’t you think?’
Not knowing how to react, suspecting a truce between them would be more dangerous to her than when they were enemies, she opened her mouth to object, but closed it quickly.
‘Come. What do you say?’ He moved closer, touched by the innocence in her large, liquid eyes. ‘Why do you hesitate? Are you afraid of what might happen if we become too close?’
‘Of course not,’ she replied, with a confidence she was far from feeling. ‘But a truce isn’t friendship. It’s only a halt in hostilities between enemies.’
Alex grinned. ‘It’s a start.’
‘Perhaps it is, but I still don’t trust you. And nothing will happen, so don’t you dare think you can seduce me, because you’ll be wasting your time.’
‘Seduction is a time-honoured tradition in my family,’ he told her, moving close like a hawk threatened to challenge. ‘One that we’re good at.’ His wickedly smiling eyes captured hers and held them prisoner until she felt a warmth suffuse her cheeks.
Angelina took a step back. Her pride was taking a battering. He was deliberately manipulating her, forcing honesty into the battles between then. Oh, why did he have to look at her like that? The flush deepened in her cheeks. ‘How many women have you said that to, Lord Montgomery?’ she asked in an attempt to sound flippant in order to hide how she really felt.
A crooked smile accompanied his reply. ‘Several. I am no saint. I enjoy the company of beautiful women, true, but is that such a crime? I would like to enjoy your company better, Angelina. I would like you to be more amiable towards me. I find you quite challenging.’
‘Why? Because you want to bring me to heel, and when you have done so trample me under your foot?’
He arched a brow, amused. ‘No, but I would like you to be less hostile towards me, less stubborn. Did anyone ever tell you that you have lovely eyes? You’ve got a lovely mouth as well.’
She looked away, staring fixedly at a point beyond the brook. ‘Please don’t say those things. I am not interested.’
‘No?’ Reaching out, he placed his forefinger gently on her cheek and turned her face back to his. He arched a questioning brow.
Angelina lifted her small chin and met his gaze unflinchingly, feeling his finger scorch her flesh. Firmly she removed it with her own. ‘No. If it is your intention to gentle me, my lord, you will have to use brute force to subdue my rebellion rather than seducing me. Those are the only tactics I know.’
In spite of himself Alex threw back his head and exploded with laughter.
Wounded by his reaction, Angelina marched past him, yet her anger and resentment were considerably diminished. ‘You brute. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’
‘Every minute of it,’ he confessed, laughing, his eyes dancing with merriment.
‘Well, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but I’m going back to the house.’
Alex matched her stride as they walked back across the park. Knowing exactly what he was doing and why, he smiled inwardly, enjoying the hunt and anticipating the kill with a good deal of pleasure.
Having no concept of his thoughts, after a moment Angelina turned and gave him a mischievous look.
‘Tell me, Lord Montgomery—’
‘Won’t you call me Alex?’
After thinking it over for a moment, she smiled. ‘Yes, all right,’ she conceded to his immense surprise and satisfaction. ‘Alex it is, then. Tell me,’ she repeated, ‘does all this belong to you?’ Taking an energetic hop backwards better to see his face, she spread her arms wide to embrace the park and surrounding countryside.
‘All of it,’ he replied, utterly enchanted by her. Her dancing eyes and quick smile were sublime.
‘So—if you wanted, you could grant permission to anyone who asked to shoot game on your land?’
The remnants of mirth still gleaming in his eyes, Alex shot her a warning look, seeing where her thoughts were travelling. ‘Don’t even think about it,’ he growled.
Giving him an impish grin, with a laugh as clear as the purest water, Angelina left his side and skipped on ahead, releasing all her suppressed energy. Alex watched her go, her bright blue skirts dancing about her feet as she went, allowing him a tantalising glimpse of slim calves and ankles. He felt a surge of admiration. Her purity and the sweet wild essence of her shone like a rare jewel. She was innocence and youth, gentleness and laughter, a wood nymph surrounded by nature, and without warning he felt hot desire pulsating to life within him—not unexpected and certainly not unwelcome.
It was at dinner that same night when Angelina looked down at the succulent trout on her plate, then raised her eyes to the man sitting across from her in mock horror. ‘What!’ she exclaimed. ‘No rabbit?’
Alex suppressed a grin. ‘No. I’ve suddenly taken an aversion to that particular animal. I’ve instructed Mrs Hall to take it off the menu. Permanently.’
Angelina wasn’t sorry. A softness entered her eyes and a haziness that suggested tears. Alex looked at her in disbelief, at a complete loss to know why his refusal to eat her rabbit should have brought her close to weeping.
‘You’re not going to tell me you’re offended, are you?’
‘No,’ she whispered truthfully, humbled. ‘I’m so sorry I killed the rabbit. I’ll never shoot another as long as I live. I swear I won’t.’
Alex stared at her. Those were not the words he had expected from her, but they were the ones he most wanted to hear. Somehow her regret for her foolish deed made him feel better. He grinned. ‘Does that apply to fish, too?’
Angelina saw the humour lurking in his silver eyes and laughed. ‘Oh, no. I’m good at fishing.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. So am I. Now, eat your trout.’
Mrs Morrisey was busy supervising the housemaids as preparations for the weekend house party got under way. Angelina was not looking forward to it, finding the prospect of meeting strangers daunting. Aunt Patience was feeling much better and hopefully the doctor would permit her to leave her room by the weekend.
When Angelina left Alex to sit with their aunt after dinner each night, he had taken to accompanying her, where, under the ever-watchful eye of Aunt Patience, he would engage the young woman in cards or chess—and Uncle Henry had been right about her skill. At first he had doubted her talent, but he soon realised he had grossly underestimated her ability and that she was no novice.
They played in front of the fire, so engrossed in their game that they failed to notice Patience’s expression of pure delight as she looked on from a roll-backed sofa, pretending to read a book. With a well-satisfied smile, she watched Alex as he relaxed in his high-backed chair with a decanter of brandy on the small carved table beside him. His eyes were fastened on the young woman across from him, and she strongly suspected his interest was not in the game.
While Angelina thought out her next move, the only sound in the room was the occasional crackle of the fire and the steady tick of the ormolu clock on the marble mantelpiece. Alex was fascinated by the way Angelina always vacated her chair and either perched on an embroidered footstool or knelt on the carpet, as she did now, as soon as they began to play. Her casual posture was not at all what he was used to among the proper ladies of his acquaintance, but he found it enchanting nevertheless. Sitting back on her heels and resting her elbows on the low chess table and cupping her face in her hands, her dark lashes curving against her cheek, she presented to him a captivating picture of bewitching innocence as she frowned in deep concentration over the board.
Every so often she would reach out and take a piece of pink Turkish delight, liberally sprinkled with powdered sugar, from a salver beside her and pop it into her mouth. Sipping at a glass of brandy, feeling the heat course down the back of his throat, Alex would watch from beneath half-lowered lids as she sucked the sugar from each sticky finger, her lips ripe, perfect, and so adorably kissable. It was almost impossible to believe that he could find such an ordinary act sublimely erotic, an act inflaming him beyond logic. As she was taking her time contemplating her next move, he looked down on the top of her head where the shining chestnut-coloured hair was drawn into an even parting, tempted to reach out and run his finger down the perfect line.
‘Are you woolgathering or have you forgotten it’s your move?’ he said with a hint of gentle mockery.
Angelina shot him an indignant look. ‘I am not woolgathering—whatever that means—and I know it’s my move without you having to remind me. I just want to make quite certain that the move I make is the right one.’
‘Who taught you to play?’
‘My father. I used to beat him more often than not.’
‘I am not your father, and you have not won yet, young lady. I have your knight.’
‘And I have one of your bishops,’ she countered.
‘That makes no difference. It’s the skill that matters. Now—are you going to move or not?’ He flicked her lazy a grin. ‘Of course, if you want to accept defeat, I’ll accept your surrender.’
‘I think not. The game is not over yet. And do you always talk as much as this when you play chess—or are you trying to put me off my game?’
‘If you move your bishop, you will relieve my knight,’ he suggested softly.
Angelina looked up, a deep furrow etched between her brows. ‘Certainly not. If I were to do that, you would take great delight in capturing my queen,’ she replied, giving his queen a scathing look where she lurked threateningly on the edge of the board ready to pounce.
Crossing one long leg over the other, Alex relaxed, content to wait until she was ready to make her move, fully prepared to wait all night if need be. He stared at her tight shoulders, at the taut, slim fingers moving her chess piece, each one exquisitely carved and depicting a character out of one or another of Shakespeare’s plays. He watched her lift a finger to her lower lip and begin to nibble her nail in a characteristic gesture that made his blood run warm.
‘That’s a bad habit,’ he chided softly.
She raised her eyes in surprise, the familiar, distant look of concentration in their dark depths. Her lips were slightly parted.
‘What is?’
He smiled, looking down at her. ‘Nail nibbling.’
‘Oh—it helps me concentrate.’ She flushed softly and quickly lowered her hand to her lap when his gaze lingered hot and hungry on her lips.
‘Then try not to concentrate too hard, otherwise you will not have any nails left—and I will lose to you yet again.’
He sighed, beginning to enjoy himself as she took her time over her next strategic moves. It required every ounce of his self-control to concentrate on his own game. His pulse began to quicken as he dwelt on the graceful sweep of her neck and the mobile curve to her lips—so ripe, so soft, so kissable. Instantly his body began to hum a willing, familiar song and he wanted to toss the board and all those irritating little pieces aside and join her on the carpet right there in front of the fire and crush her against him.
‘Check!’ Angelina suddenly cried, cornering his black king with her white queen.
Alex grinned. ‘Mate,’ he responded, knocking his king over in final, willing defeat.
‘That’s two games to me to your one,’ she told him.
The triumphant joy on her face was so startling, so captivating, that Alex was tempted to let her win every time. It would be well worth it to see her look like that. ‘I admit defeat and consider myself well and truly trounced.’
‘Will you not play another game to try to get even?’
Alex threw up his hands in mock despair. ‘Alas, no. Don’t you think I’ve been punished enough for one evening? We’ll play again—perhaps tomorrow—and for your impudence I’m afraid I shall be forced to deal with you as you deserve,’ he chuckled. He rose and went to his aunt, bending down and kissing her cheek. ‘I will bid both you ladies goodnight and retire to my rooms to lick my wounds in private. As you know, Verity and Nathan will be arriving tomorrow—a day ahead of the other guests. I have business in St Albans in the morning so my secretary Hawkins and I will be away first thing. I should be back early afternoon.’
‘Alex, wait,’ said Angelina, scrambling to her feet and halting him as he was about to go out, remembering she had a request to make of him. With his hand on the door knob he turned and looked at her, waiting for her to speak.
‘May I ride? You have so many fine horses in your stable. I’ve asked Trimble if I may ride one, but he told me to ask you first.’
‘Of course. As long as you remain within the vicinity of the house you may. If you wish to ride further afield, a groom or myself must accompany you.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it is not done for young ladies to ride alone, that’s why. There are also gypsies in the area, so I do not want you to venture too far.’
‘Are they harmful?’
‘As a rule, no. They have my permission to be on Arlington land just as they had from my predecessors—to come and go as they please, providing they behave themselves and abide by the law of the land while they are here. Unfortunately the gypsies encamped on the other side of the woods are strangers and therefore unpredictable. My bailiff has told them to move on. With luck they will have gone before the end of the week.’
Chapter Six
‘I’m glad to see the two of you are getting on,’ Patience said when Alex had gone.
‘Yes, we are, but he never talks about himself. Despite his self-assurance, I sense a deep sadness in him, something frozen and withdrawn. He gives of himself sparingly. The only thing I know about him is that both his parents are dead.’
‘Gerald, his father, is—but Margaret—his mother, is very much alive,’ Patience told her with uncharacteristic bitterness. ‘After the death of her husband, Margaret married a Spanish count and went to live in Spain.’
Angelina was surprised. ‘Oh, I see. Did Alex not approve of this? Is this the reason why he refuses to speak of his mother?’
‘There’s much more to it than that.’
‘And I should not ask,’ Angelina murmured sagely. ‘I’m sorry, Aunt. I don’t mean to pry.’
Patience smiled. ‘It’s only natural that you are curious—and maybe I should tell you. Alex wouldn’t want us discussing something that he considers to be a purely personal and private matter, but, if you know something of his background perhaps it will help you understand him a little better and not judge him too harshly.’
‘I don’t judge him at all. What was his father like?’
Angelina listened avidly as Patience told her how Alex’s mother had married Gerald, Henry’s younger brother. Pampered and spoiled, she’d had her sights set on Henry, but Henry—who was deeply in love with someone else—didn’t want her. To spite him, Margaret married Gerald, who loved her to distraction. Being lamentably weak, Gerald was forced to endure her many affairs, which she flaunted shamelessly.
For some malicious reason of her own—which Patience suspected was because Alex bore such a striking resemblance to Henry—she had hidden nothing from Alex. He was young and impressionable and adored his father. Gerald began drinking heavily to blot out what Margaret was doing, until it became too much. One day when he was in his cups he shot himself. Alex was fifteen at the time and witnessed the whole dreadful business.
Angelina listened in horror, seeing her aunt’s eyes cloud with pain and bitter memory.
‘Because he sensed it could destroy him, Alex refused to submit to the anger and anguish that raged inside him. In Henry he found warmth and understanding. But no one has been capable of unlocking that closed compartment inside his mind where he keeps his pain. Margaret distorted his mind, inflicting mental injuries on her son no mother should. She fostered in him a loathing and terrible bitterness against the female sex. It will take an exceptional woman to succeed where all others have failed. Alex needs someone to love—and someone to love him unconditionally in return.’
Angelina felt a lump of constricting sorrow in her chest, deeply moved by what Patience had revealed to her, which went a long way to helping her understand Alex. She also realised that the same demons that chased her were chasing Alex, and that it was as hard for him to talk about what had happened to him as it was for her.
The following day saw a deterioration in the weather, with rain fluctuating from a drizzle to a torrential downpour. Disappointed at being unable to ride, Angelina’s spirits drooped. Undecided about what to do with her time, she decided to take a bath.