“Why?” she asked, startled.
His arms crossed his chest. “I intend to wed you.”
“What?” Suddenly dizzy, Elizabeth backed away with hand to throat. Tripping on her skirts, she fell to her knees. “You’ve gone mad,” she cried.
His mouth curved in a bitter smile. “It seems so, yes.”
Her breath coming in unsteady pants, Elizabeth leaned forward, her fingers sinking into the damp sand. She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. “Whatever made you conceive of such a ridiculous notion? You’ve no wish to marry, nor do I.”
“Not true. I must wed. And you and I suit.”
She swallowed hard, her stomach roiling. “Physically, perhaps. But lust fades. In no time at all you’ll grow weary of a wife and seek your pleasures elsewhere.”
“If you are equally bored, you won’t be disturbed.”
Furious, she grabbed handfuls of sand and threw them at his chest. “Go to hell!”
He laughed, shaking out his sweater with maddening nonchalance. “Jealousy is a possessive emotion, love. You’ll have to wed me if you want the right to feel that way.”
Elizabeth searched his face, looking for deceit and found nothing but cool impassivity. His face, so breathtaking, revealed nothing of his thoughts. The determined line of his jaw, however, was achingly familiar. “I don’t wish to marry again.”
“Consider the benefits.” Marcus held out his hand and ticked off with his fingers. “Elevated rank. Great wealth. I will afford you the same independence you enjoyed with Hawthorne. And you’ll have me in your bed, a prospect you should find vastly appealing.”
“Conceited rogue. Allow us to discuss the negatives as well. You thrive on danger. You are eager to die. And you’re too bloody damn arrogant.”
Grinning, he held out his hand and helped her to her feet. “I ask for a fortnight to change your mind. If I cannot, I’ll leave you in peace and never bother you again. I’ll resign from this mission and another agent will protect you.”
She shook her head. “The situation here is far different than our life would be under normal circumstances. There is little danger for you around here.”
“True,” he admitted. “But perhaps I can make the rest of your life so pleasant that my work with Eldridge will be of less consequence.”
“Impossible!”
“A fortnight,” he urged. “It’s all I ask. You owe me that much, at least.”
“No.” The gleam in his eye could not be mistaken. “I know what you want.”
Marcus met her gaze squarely. “I won’t touch you. I swear it.”
“You lie.”
His brow rose. “You doubt I can restrain myself? I shared a bed with you last night and didn’t make love to you. I assure you, I have control over my baser needs.”
Elizabeth chewed her lower lip, weighing her options. To be free of him forever . . .
“You will find another room?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“You promise not to make any advances?”
“I promise.” His mouth curved wickedly. “When you want me, you’ll have to ask me.”
She bristled at his arrogance. “What do you hope to accomplish by this?”
He came toward her and when he spoke, his voice was tender. “We already know you enjoy me in your bed. I intend to prove you will enjoy having me in the rest of your life as well. I’m not always so tiresome. In fact, some would say I’m quite pleasant.”
“Why me?” she asked plaintively, her hand sheltering her racing heart. “Why marriage?”
Marcus shrugged. “‘The time is right’ would be the simplest answer. I enjoy your company, despite how often you are obstinate and disagreeable.”
When she shook her head, he frowned. “You said yes once before.”
“That was before I knew about the agency.”
His tone deepened, became cajoling. “Don’t you wish to manage your own household again? Wouldn’t you like to have children? Build a family? Surely you don’t wish to be alone forever.”
Startled, she stared at him with wide eyes. Marcus Ashford discussing children? The longing that washed over her so unexpectedly scared her to death.
“You want an heir.” She looked away to hide her reaction.
“I want you. The heir and other progeny would be added delights.”
Her eyes flew to meet his again. Flustered by his nearness and his determination, Elizabeth turned toward the path in the cliffs.
“Do we have an agreement?” he called after her, remaining behind.
“Yes,” she threw over her shoulder, her voice carried by the wind. “A fortnight, then you are out of my life.”
His satisfaction was a palpable thing and she ran from it.
Elizabeth reached the top of the cliff and fell to her knees. Marriage. The word choked her throat and made her dizzy, leaving her panting for air like a swimmer too long under water. Marcus’s will was a force to be reckoned with. What the devil was she to do now that he’d set his mind on marriage again?
Lifting her head, she looked toward the livery with aching longing. It would be such a relief to go, to leave the turmoil behind.
But she discarded the idea. Marcus would come for her, he would track her down as long as she still wanted him. And no matter how hard she tried, she was unable to hide the depth and breadth of her attraction.
Therefore, the only way to be rid of his attentions was to accept the bargain he offered. Marcus would have to end his pursuit of his own accord. There was no other way the obstinate man would quit.
Wearily resolved, Elizabeth stood and made her way toward the guesthouse. She would have to move carefully. He knew her too well. The slightest intimation that she was uneasy and he would pounce, pressing his advantage with his customary ruthlessness. She would have to be relaxed and indifferent. It was the only solution.
Satisfied she had a reasonable plan of action, she quickened her pace.
Meanwhile, Marcus lingered on the beach and wondered at his sanity. God help him, he wanted her still. Wanted her more than before. He’d once hoped to satisfy his need and finally be done with her. Now he prayed his aching need would never end, the pleasure was too great to forfeit.
If only he’d known the trap that awaited him in her arms. But there had been no way to know. With all his experience, he still could never have imagined the searing rapture of Elizabeth’s bed or the ever-growing need he had to tame her and pin her beneath him, as lost to his desire as he was.
Picking up a rock from the pile Elizabeth left behind, he tossed it into the water. He’d created quite a challenge for himself. Her one vulnerability had always been their desire for each other. Naked and sated, Elizabeth was soft and open to discussion. Now he was denied seduction to achieve his ends. He would have to woo her like a gentleman, something he’d never managed even the first time.
But should he succeed, he would thwart Eldridge’s plan to replace him and prove to one and all that Elizabeth was his. There would be no doubt.
Marriage. He shuddered. It had finally happened. The woman had driven him insane.
“I want to see where you’re taking me.”
“No,” Marcus whispered in her ear, steadying her with his hands on her shoulders. “It would not be a surprise if you knew.”
“I’m not fond of surprises,” Elizabeth complained.
“Well, you will have to become accustomed, sweet, because I am full of them.”
She snorted and he laughed, his heart as light as the afternoon breeze. “Ah, love. Much as you wish it weren’t so, you adore me.”
Her lush mouth curved in a smile, the ends of her lips touching the underside of the blindfold that blocked her vision. “Your conceit knows no bounds.”
She shrieked as he hefted her into the air, and then sank to his knees. He set her down on the blanket he’d spread earlier and removed her blindfold, watching expectantly as she blinked against the sudden bright light.
With the
help of the duke’s staff, he’d arranged a picnic, selecting a field of wild grass just over the rise from the main manor. She’d been unnaturally tense since their talk on the beach that morning and he knew something unexpected was warranted if he wished to make headway.
“This is lovely,” she exclaimed, her eyes wide and filled with pleasure. Sans the assistance of an abigail and unwilling to let him help her dress, Elizabeth was forced to attire herself in a startlingly simple gown. With her hair uncoiffed and tied back from her face, there was nothing to compete with the singular beauty of her features.
Basking in the glow of her surprise, Marcus silently agreed with her sentiment. Elizabeth was breathtaking, her fine features lovingly shielded by the wide brim of her straw hat.
Smiling, he reached into the basket and withdrew a bottle of wine. He filled a glass and handed it to her, the touch of her fingers against his sending a frisson of awareness up his spine.
“I’m pleased you approve,” he murmured. “It’s only my second attempt at formal courtship.” His gaze lifted to hers. “I’m a bit nervous, truth be told.”
“You?” She arched a brow.