Mad Jack (Sherbrooke Brides 4)

“Well, dear Winifrede, you’re back again. I forgot that you couldn’t stand closed-in places. No, don’t move or I’ll hurt you. I might even put that burlap sack over your head again and listen to you choke.”

She stared at Arthur Kelburn, Lord Rye’s eldest son. She hadn’t seen him for a good three months. She wished she didn’t have to see him for another thirty years.

“Why?” she said, nothing more, staring at his very fine white cravat and buff riding jacket.

He gave her his special brooding, dark-eyed scowl that sent most of the local girls into swoons of delight. His hair was as black as Eleanor’s stomach, long and curling slightly over his neck, a thick lock hanging romantically over his forehead. He was the same age as Gray. There was no further likeness between the two men. Arthur was the antithesis of his noble name. He would very likely prove to be a greater wastrel than his father in the years to come, if he lived that long.

“Why?”

He was sitting on the opposite carriage seat, facing her. His hands were clasped between his knees. His dark, brooding look intensified. He probably practiced that look in a mirror.

“When I was young,” he said finally, “I thought you the skinniest, ugliest little girl I’d ever seen. My father would just smile and say, ‘Wait, my boy, just wait.’ I waited, Winifrede. Now you’re eighteen—nearly nineteen, my father told me—a woman grown, and I must say that my father was right. You’ve turned out quite charmingly.

“I’m a man grown, and I’m ready to marry. My father and I had determined that it would be he who married you. It was all settled. We knew that those witless old ladies had taken you to London. We even knew where you were. Sir Henry would fetch you back. I told my father that you would prefer me to him and that once you knew I would be your groom, you would cease your complaints. It is, naturally, quite true, and so my father agreed to it.

“Then Sir Henry came rushing down to Folkstone to tell us that you were going to marry a bloody baron tomorrow morning.”

He sat forward, his knees touching hers, and his brooding look became turbulent, more laced with violence.

“You’re not going to marry any bloody baron, Winifrede. You’re going to marry me. We’re on our way to the border. It will take us at least five days to get there and get married. By that time, it’s more than likely that you’ll be pregnant with my child.”

“Did your father truly believe I would prefer you to him?”

“Ah, yes, ladies do enjoy having many men fighting over them. It pleases their vanity. Well, my father decided that having you in his bed just wasn’t worth all the aggravation, so he gave you over to me. He told me you were willful and obstinate and had too much guile for a woman. He said you weren’t to be trusted. He assured me that wooing you would be a waste of time. He reminded me what had happened when your stepfather left you alone in your bedchamber, assuming that you were broken, assuming that he’d won and you would do what he told you to do. He told me to master you, it was the only way.

“My father’s an old man—not that he’d appreciate hearing me say that, but it’s true. He’s forgotten what it’s like to take a young innocent like you and teach her what she’s supposed to be, what she’s supposed to do.”

“My betrothed will kill you.”

Arthur laughed. “He might wish to, but he won’t attempt it. He’s a useless dandy, that one. I would shoot him down very easily. He knows it. I have a reputation for my shooting and fencing skills.

“No, your baron will bleat and gnash his teeth because he’s lost your sixty thousand pounds, but he’s not stupid. He won’t do anything, Winifrede, he simply won’t. He has no spine and he realizes it.”

She was silent, working the knotted rope at her wrists. Her fingers were getting numb. It wasn’t a good sign.

Arthur looked out the window when she remained silent. He was pleased that she was holding her tongue. He stared at the passing green hills and the interminable yew bushes that lined the road as far as the eye could see. He saw an occasional herd of cows, an occasional flock of sheep. The carriage was well sprung. His father liked his luxuries. He didn’t want his son to be uncomfortable in this venture.

He turned to look at her again. He stretched out his legs, one on either side of her, clasping her legs between his. “That scares you, doesn’t it, Winifrede? Well, after tonight, you’ll like having me all over you. I trust you’re still a virgin?”

She continued silent. If she’d had her way last night, just maybe she wouldn’t be a virgin this morning. But Gray was a man of honor, curse him. She kept working the knot.

“Yes, I suppose you are. Since you were the aunts’ valet, they would have protected you.” He pressed his legs more tightly inward, trapping hers. She didn’t move, didn’t breathe, just kept twisting and pulling on the knot.

“You know, I began to believe you pretty after your sixteenth birthday. You’ve turned out well. You’re not as pretty as your mother was—at least that’s what my father says—but I shan’t repine. Your hair is thick and quite lovely, many interesting shades of blond.” He leaned forward and removed the clasp that held her hair at the nape of her neck. He fanned his fingers through her hair, arranging it about her shoulders, bringing over some of it to cover her breasts.

He sat back again, crossing his arms over his chest.

To his surprise, she smiled at him. “I would like you to return me to London now, Arthur. Gray won’t kill you if you turn the carriage around right now and go back.”

“I already told you that he won’t try to kill me, no matter what I do to you. Are you stupid?”

> “Very well. Then I will tell you this: I refuse to marry you. You can’t force me to.”

“I will simply take you until you have no other choice. I will keep you with me until you’re with child. I’m a potent man. I have three bastards at least to prove it.”

“I don’t care if you rape me. I still won’t marry you.”

His brooding look now bordered on the petulant; he looked for all the world like a small boy who’d been thwarted and hadn’t expected it. “That’s ridiculous. You’re a girl. You know nothing about anything. You won’t have a choice. I’m a man. I’m handsome and charming. I will please you in bed as I’ve pleased more girls than I can count. You will admire me. You will be pleased that I’m your husband. You will obey me, but I will never trust you.”