Lyon's Gate (Sherbrooke Brides 9)

“Why? Is something wrong with one of the mares? Father, why are you shaking your head at me like that?”

“Sweetheart, do not be obtuse. Face up to the facts. Go with Jason. There will be a lot to do. Oh yes, your aunt and uncle will be staying at Northcliffe Hall.”

“Father, all that talk about Jason having to marry me, I thought you were joking, that you were torturing Lord Renfrew, and I will admit that I thought it was well done of you. You really believe I should marry Jason? That’s ridiculous.” She whirled around to face Jason. “Listen to me, I will not marry you. You don’t want a wife. You wouldn’t trust a wife.”

“Come along, Hallie.”

“No. You said you never wanted to marry. I don’t want to marry either. That makes two of us. We have the majority opinion here.”

Alec Carrick roared, “You had your hand down his damned britches, Hallie! You would have had him on the stable floor in a matter of moments if I hadn’t pried you off him.”

“Pried me?”

“No, sir,” Jason said, heart pounding, the specter of doom sitting on his shoulder. “I would have stopped her. Well, perhaps not.”

“Exactly,” Alec said. “This is called consequences, Hallie. Get a grip on yourself.” He said to Jason, “She once denied a downpour because she wanted a picnic. Denying the need for a husband would be nothing for her.”

“But—”

“Shut up, Hallie.” Jason grabbed her hand and jerked her toward the front door. “Let’s talk about a picnic in the rain.”

She said, “That particular picnic was pretty dreadful, truth be told—” Jason dragged her out of the house.

Angela said to Alec, “I am worried about this, my lord. She’s always been stubborn.”

“I have confidence in young Mr. Sherbrooke. I saw him surrounded by children several times in Baltimore. They adored him. They obeyed him. He will bring Hallie around. Did you know she found out who the stable lad is who told his cousin, who is Lady Grimsby’s maid, about Jason and Hallie in the stables?”

“Oh dear, is the fellow hanging from a stable beam? Will we have to hide the body?”

“Nothing so final. She told me she was going to lock him in the closet beneath the stairs, keep him on a diet of bread and water until he repented his loose tongue.”

Despite knowing better, Angela looked back over her shoulder toward the stairs.

Alec Carrick laughed, buffeted her shoulder. “Life is never what one expects, is it, Angela?”

“Their children will be beautiful,” Angela said.

Alec Carrick looked like she’d slapped him. He was still shaking his head as he walked to the stables. He saw Jason and his daughter walking toward the maple copse to the east, and stopped. No, he wasn’t needed. If Jason didn’t have the wherewithal to bring her to reason, it would take the Devil himself. How strange that she was so like her stepmother—bullheaded wasn’t far off the mark—and not at all like the woman who’d birthed her. He wondered what Jason would say to her.

Jason didn’t say a word. He pulled her to a halt beneath a lovely summer-leafed maple branch and dove his fingers into her hair. She closed her eyes. How could massaging her scalp make her want to rip off her stockings and boots? “Surely that is sinful. It feels too good not to be bad.”

“What comes after my rubbing your scalp is what’s bad.” She leaned toward him so he could rub her head better, not because she wanted to throw herself on him. She was firm with herself about this, she was in control of herself. She would see this through, she would not bow to parental pressure. When he released her, she pulled a maple leaf off and began twisting it around her fingers. She said, “I will not marry you, Jason. I will speak again to my father, tell him that—”

Jason growled low in his throat, grabbed her, and kissed her hard. He said into her mouth, “Be quiet. It’s done. You’ve got me. We’ve got each other. I will do my best to be a good husband to you, Hallie, I swear it to you. Now stop being a mule.”

He raised his head and she was forced to look into his incredible eyes, a woman’s downfall, those eyes of his, and his mouth—well, she wasn’t going to look at his mouth, or his eyes, she wasn’t that great a fool. She wanted to ram him against the tree. No, she was strong, in control of herself, she knew what was right. Forcing him to wed her wasn’t. Her heart, though, it was pounding so hard and fast it nearly hurt. She wanted him to press his fingers to her racing heart. She felt his fingers stroking through her hair again, this time pulling out the pins. She felt his mouth again on hers, and finally, thank the good Lord above, felt his fingers lightly cup her breast. Her wits fell out of her head. She saw things very clearly in that moment, looking up at him, seeing his determination, and yes, lust as well. Perhaps there was caring as well, mayhap a dollop of tenderness. It was enough. It was more than enough. Without another thought, she jumped off the cliff. “All right,” she said. “Yes, perhaps marrying you would be a very wonderful thing.”

Over dinner that evening, Jason invited all the staff into the dining room for a glass of champagne.

“What is this, Master Jason? Have we a new mare to be covered by our virile Dodger?”

“No, Petrie. Miss Carrick and I will be married. Very soon. Don’t tell me you haven’t heard the rumors. The rumors will cease once my uncle Tysen says the hallowed words over our heads.”

Martha accepted her glass of champagne, beaming. “Oh, Miss Hallie, how very exciting, to actually have Master Jason all to yourself! But you nearly had him in the stable, didn’t you? Well, perhaps it’s best not to speak of that.”

“To the joining of partners,” Baron Sherard said loudly, and everyone cheered and drank the rather decent champagne, all except Petrie, who looked like he would burst into tears.

“Give it up, Petrie,” Jason said. “Drink your champagne It will make you feel more resigned to the inevitable.”