The Valentine Legacy (Legacy 3)

“I think, my lord,” Spears said, “that your levity is singularly misplaced at this particular moment in time. James has a problem now because of Mr. Badger’s unfortunate lapse. Jessie isn’t happy with him.”

James came up on his hands and knees, shaking his head. “Maggie, that was the most god-awful metaphor I’ve ever heard in my life. True love and rose petals? As for you, Marcus, your digressing to the bedchamber is just like you. I suppose next you’d nibble the rose petals that stuck to the Duchess’s feet. As for you, Jessie, you’ve made my ear ring.” He shook his head and gently rubbed his ear with his hand. “What do you say about that?”

Jessie was slowly backing away from all of them. “I’m leaving. This is bedlam. James doesn’t want to marry me. Why won’t all of you just accept that? Obviously you’ve made him feel so guilty that he forced himself to propose to me. When I said no and saved him from himself, he forced himself to fall on me and hold me down. He even forced himself to kiss me until I didn’t fight him anymore.”

“Damn you, Jessie, how do you think I got as hard as that fireplace iron if I wasn’t interested?”

“I’m sorry about your crimped cod, Badger.” She ran to the glass doors, pushed one of them open, and dashed into the storm.

“Oh damn,” James said. “I’ve got to catch her again. She’s fast, even in her skirt and petticoats. Badger, get some hot tea ready. She’s only wearing those ladylike little slippers. Her feet are probably already wet.”

“Wet clothes,” his lordship said as he watched his American cousin run out into the storm, “and the subsequent removal of them tend to lead most usually to interesting afternoon diversions.”

“We’ll see, my lord,” Spears said. “Mr. Badger, let’s get some blankets and that hot tea. I hope neither of them becomes ill through all this excess of emotion.”

“Jessie will ruin her streamers,” Maggie said, and touched her fingers to the soft curls that lovingly hovered over her white ears.

He cornered her in the Chase Park stables, trying to get a saddle on Clancy’s broad back. It wasn’t that the saddle was too heavy. Clancy was seventeen hands high, and she simply couldn’t heave the saddle up onto his back. She dropped the saddle, stomped her foot, and cursed. As for Clancy, that brute of a stallion who had been known to throw the earl a good dozen times in fits of pique, was neighing softly, nudging Jessie’s shoulder with his nose—all in all, behaving like a besotted swain or an obsequious pet. James imagined that the bloody horse would have collapsed onto his knees so she could hug him better if he’d had the brains to realize it.

“You aren’t going anywhere, Jessie. Why did you pick Clancy? He’s a brute, he could kill you if he had a mind to do so, and you can’t even get a saddle on his back. Just look what you’ve done to him—you’ve broken his spirit. Why, he’d lick your face if he thought about it. Give him one final pat and let’s go back to the house.”

“No.”

“Jessie, you will do as I tell you. I’m tired of chasing you. I’d forgotten you’re like a mountain goat. I’m tired. So just stop all these dramatics and come back with me to the house.”

“House, ha! It’s a bloody mansion. It has more rooms than an entire block of houses in Baltimore.”

He stared at her a moment, bemused.

“Clancy isn’t a brute. He’s a sweetheart.”

“That’s what the Duchess says about Marcus. Oh God, you haven’t tried to ride Clancy, have you?”

“Naturally. We’ve had great rides. He’s shown me the countryside.”

“You’re telling me Marcus allowed this?”

“He doesn’t know. Lambkin allowed that it was better not to awaken his lordship’s choler.”

“Jessie, you’re soaked. I’m soaked. You’re not going anywhere. Come along with me now.”

“Will you try to pin me to the floor again?”

“No, not the floor. The next time I pin you it will be to a bed.”

She picked up the saddle and threw it at him, only to have it fall several feet short.

He leaned back against the stall, careful not to irritate Clancy, who was rolling his eyes at the sight of that flying saddle, and said, “Just look at what you’ve become. You put on a gown and you lose all your strength. Your streamers are plastered to your head. The bodice of your gown is plastered to your breasts. That looks interesting. Perhaps I can flatten you against this stall.”

He took a step toward her, looking wet and wicked. She ducked beneath Clancy and came up on the other side.

“Are you out of your damned mind? Clancy could hurt you, Jessie. Come along, now, at least let’s get out of this stall.”

She’d already decided that. Clancy liked her, she knew that, but she also knew he found humans occasionally irritating. His tail was beginning to twitch. She patted his neck, kissed his nose, and slipped out of the stall, James on her heels.

He caught her arm before she could break into a run.

“Enough,” he said. He pulled her against him. She was trembling—undoubtedly from the wet and cold. He ran his large hands down her back. Her back didn’t feel like a lanky girl’s. It was disconcerting. Her breasts didn’t belong to a lanky girl, either.