Chapter Eleven #3
Odd. Kate’s irritation grew as she began to feel like a stranger in her own home, completely unaware of what was happening around her. Spurred to action, she strode to the kitchen and poked her head inside, where Meg was busy at the old table.
“What is going on in the stables?”
“Oh, my lady, you startled me,” Meg said, putting a hand to her ample bosom. “Why, I believe that Mr. Badcock and Mr. Beane went to London to get one of his lordship’s horses. They brought Dora back with them, and I must say it will be nice to have some more help around here.”
Kate flushed. The cook’s casual comment held no censure, and yet she felt it, the same old gnawing guilt that the sad state of Hargate was somehow her fault. She stiffened. “And just where is this beast?”
Meg looked up, eyeing her in some surprise. “Why, I understand that his lordship took the animal out himself, to check on the tenants.”
The tenants? Her tenants? Kate seethed. Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded and closed the door. Then she stomped back to the stables.
How dare he! Admittedly, she had not talked to the people who worked her father’s land lately, but that was because she no longer had any power over the estate. Uncle Jasper controlled the rents and the collections, as he did everything else. But what gave Grayson the right to meddle?
What made him think he could poke his nose into everything? The more she thought about his arrogant usurpation of her role here at Hargate, the angrier she became.
Although she had once longed for someone with whom to share her burdens, she never had any intention of relinquishing all her responsibilities and her very existence to some overbearing lord.
It was bad enough that Grayson had taken over her household, installing his servants without asking her permission,and throwing the contents of his deep pockets around. But now he was acting as if he owned the very land beneath her feet, hills and pastures that had been in her family for centuries.
Kate would have taken off after him, but she had no idea in which direction he had gone.
She could do nothing except wait near the stables, hoping to catch him when he returned.
And as she stalked back and forth, her frustration mounted.
He was nothing to them, not a relation or a guardian or even a…
suitor, Tom’s ridiculous efforts notwithstanding.
His only connection to them was the imposter who had used his name, and that was a tenuous bond at best. What gave him the right to barge into their lives, disrupting everything, taking over all her duties and leaving her with nothing?
With a strangled moan, Kate sank down upon a hillock and buried her face in her hands as resentment and rage and despair welled up inside her, threatening to spill out. What was happening to her?
How often had she rued her position as head of the faltering family, serving as cook, maid, groom, groundskeeper, and general jack-of-all-trades? Ever since her father’s death, she had taken on more and more duties until they became overwhelming.
But better to be overwhelmed than not needed at all.
Kate had nothing to do, nothing important anyway, and it frightened her, because her work was who and what she was, and without it, she felt as nothing.
She was little more than a well-bred oddity, an earl’s daughter who wore breeches and mucked around in the dirt or the ovens, who could swear like a sailor and tend her horse, but who had no place in the noble world into which she had been born.
In her sensible fashion, Kate recognized that she could not resume a life long gone. She could not don a fancy gown and turn into a lady again. She could not spend her days watercoloring and playing the pianoforte and prattling on about trivialities.
But if she could not go back and had lost her place here, what was she to do? How was she to go on?
Kate was not certain how long she sat there, immersed in misery, but the sound of hoofbeats finally roused her. She quickly straightened, dashing away the telltale tears. She would never let Grayson see her cry.
She was not a weepy whiner like Lucy. She was made of sterner stuff, and he was about to find out just what.
“Kate!”
Ignoring the warmth that spread through her at the sound of her name on his lips, she turned on him, forcing herself not to watch the clean lines of his body as he dismounted: long legs, muscular thighs, wide shoulders. Surely, there had never been such a handsome Judas.
“How dare you?” she asked him, as coolly as she could manage.
In response, he lifted that infernal brow of his, and she wanted to yank the dark hairs from his head. Instead, she kept her gaze level, her tone even. “You overstepped your bounds, my lord.”
“Did I? I was not aware that you had set any bounds for me, Kate.”
Kate could feel her cheeks blaze, but she refused to be drawn into another one of his games of taunt and parry, one of his sophisticated London plays of flirtation. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “You have no right to speak to our tenants.”
She had his complete attention now, for both brows went up, and his eyes glittered.
“I was trying to discover just how they fare, Kate. Yesterday I came across one of your families leaving the land because of their ill-usage. I would think you would like to see your uncle called to account for his greedy practices before he destroys your heritage.”
Kate blinked. How had he found out about Jasper?
And why had he said nothing of it to her?
Of course, she wanted her uncle brought to justice, and she was both grateful and envious of Grayson’s efforts when her own had come to nothing.
But he was running roughshod over her, and she refused to be dashed into the ground.
And while she seethed, he stood there, so cool and contained and fine-looking that she lashed out, striking his broad chest with one fist, then another.
Long held back, her anger exploded with the pain of her humiliations, including the marriage offer forced upon him by her coachman, an offer he had yet to discuss with her.
But her efforts had little effect on the hard expanse, and he soon seized her wrists, seemingly unfazed. “What is this all about?”
“You have no right. Who are you to come in here and take over? Can’t you see what you are doing? No, you just stand there, as stiff as your valet, without even blinking. Don’t you feel anything?”
His eyes narrowed. “I feel. I feel too damn much where you’re concerned.” Grayson growled out the words in a low, threatening tone that pulled her up short.
Kate glanced at him, startled by the leashed fury that showed on his features. Too late, she remembered he was dangerous, and she tried to step back, but he held her fast.
The gray depths of his eyes glittered, and Kate watched, stunned, as he lifted one of her wrists and pressed his open mouth to her racing pulse.
She shivered, although it was heat that rushed through her, making her limbs weak.
When he pressed his lips to the other wrist, she swayed on her feet and would have fallen if he had not swung her up into his arms.
The world careened dizzily around her as Kate clung to his neck, the ground moving swiftly below. She was dimly aware of the shadows of the stables closing around her before she tumbled backward, out of Grayson’s embrace, and landed with a soft jolt in the fresh hay that filled the empty stall.
Kate gasped as she looked up at him. Gone was the marquess that she had come to know. The man who stood over her was a stranger, his hair wind-tossed, his face hard, and his eyes wild.
As she stared, he stripped off his gloves and threw them aside, then yanked off his coat. His fingers, always deft and assured, fumbled with the buttons of his waistcoat before it, too, was flung aside.
Was he going to take off everything? Kate’s heart thundered. She had seen him naked before, but not apurpose, and certainly not in this manner, tearing off his garments like a man driven by demons. It was as if the cool veneer that had encased him for so long was being cast away with his clothing.
And although she had wanted to discompose him, this was not at all what she had had in mind.
She drew in a deep, ragged breath as he pulled at his shirt, drawing it up to reveal his broad chest, the hair dusted across it, the puckered red mark of his wound, and the dark thatches beneath his arms. Thrusting away the fine linen, he paused to look at her.
Kate shivered, half in dismay and half in excitement, as he came down on top of her, his mouth finding hers with luscious abandon.
She knew not what fueled him, anger or madness, or whether he was toying with her still, but she could no more deny him than she could the swift spark of her own escalating passion.
She had forgotten the feel of the clean lines of his torso, and she slid her hands up his chest, delighting in the play of his muscles, the smooth skin of his back. He groaned, pressing closer, and the weight of him settled against her until all she knew was his hardness.
And heat. It surrounded her, from his body, his lips, and his hands as they cupped her face. His fingers traced the whorls of her ears, laced through the curls of her hair, kneaded her scalp, and glided down her throat, leaving fiery trails behind them.
His tongue danced with hers, a simmering, swirling waltz of taste and texture that fired her desire. His palms glided over her breasts before he pulled impatiently at her shirt, whispering curses.
Gone was the smooth, polished lover from the hillside, and in his place was a man whose hands trembled when they stroked her stomach. He kissed her there, his tongue dipping into her navel before moving on to skim the flesh beneath the edge of her trousers.
Kate was filled with a sweet, giddy warmth, and smiled to hear him swear again as he fumbled with the fall.
Her amusement fled when, above the harshness of their breaths, came the sound of a button popping and landing against the side of the stall as he pulled the material asunder.
And then he touched her so intimately that Kate gasped. Or was it a sigh?
“Kate. Kate,” he murmured. He shuddered and lifted his head to look at her.
His eyes blazed in a way she had never seen before, with a wildness that held her in thrall.
He loomed above her, his tall body still as he trapped her with his gaze, while the air simmered around her, heavy with anticipation.
And then his fingers moved against her, sending such pleasure through her that Kate could only blink in astonishment. Closing her eyes, she gave herself over to the Marquess of Wroth, working some kind of unimaginable magic…
A noise escaped her throat, and Kate gripped his muscled arms, her nails digging into his skin as she sought purchase. Her head fell back, and she gasped for air, while the heat grew in intensity until it exploded within her, an amazing rush of flame that left her body boneless and melted.
For a long moment, Kate lay there, unable to move or think, until a snuffling sound made her open her eyes. She saw Grayson and, over his shoulder, a large dark shape. His horse, obviously tired of waiting for a nonexistent groom, was nudging his back.
Muttering a curse, he pushed the animal’s head away, but it was insistent. Although Kate wanted to laugh, the expression on Grayson’s face stopped her. He looked down at her with such naked emotion that her heart nearly stopped.
And then it was gone. His features were shuttered once more, making her question her powers of perception, especially when he rose to his feet and grabbed his shirt.
“So now you know,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “Now we both know how much I feel.”