Annabelle's Courtship

“I do not wish to marry anyone but Ian.” She emphasized each word slowly, so the ridiculous man would understand.

Then, while he was still debilitated from her blow, she pushed him out the door and shut it. After turning the key in the lock, she faced Ian.

“Now, I will explain.”

She began rolling up her skirt again.

“Dinna think to sidetrack me with your body, Belle.” She stopped rolling and stared at him. She cocked her head to one side. “Why?

Would it work?”

He shrugged. “Perhaps.”

She resumed her task of lifting her skirt. She then withdrew the pamphlets. “I came in here to get these.”

Ian took the pamphlets from her and when he saw what they said, his grim countenance returned.

“I was in the process of hiding them in my chemise, when the squire leaped on me.

He must have followed me in here and when he saw my bare legs it was too much for him.”

The very idea was ludicrous to her, but what else could explain the squire’s inexplicable behavior?

Ian must not have thought it was such a strange explanation because he did not laugh. “What was all that business about your mutual affection?”

“I don’t know. It is true that we share some interests, but nothing more than that. I have never given him any reason to believe I encourage his suit.” She forced Ian to meet her gaze. “You must believe me.”

“Lower your gown, Belle, ’tis much too distracting.” She wondered how long it would take him to notice. “No.” He glared at her. “Nay?”

“Uh-uh.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to.” He moved toward her. “Why not?”

“I had hoped that if the sight of my bare legs would inflame the squire’s passion, it would do no less for you. Does it?” She couldn’t keep a niggling worry from her voice.

What if it didn’t? What if Ian had only used passion to convince her to marry him and now his true feelings would come out?

He closed the rest of the distance between them and pulled her into his arms. As he lowered his lips to hers he said, “The mere sight of you inflames my senses, Belle. You could be covered from head to toe with only the sparkle in your eyes visible and I would want to bed you.”

His lips swallowed her response. She released her gown to fall about her ankles and twined her fingers in his hair. His kiss said that he trusted her, that his passion for her was real and that she belonged to him. She melted against his length, content to be held by the one man she could give her heart.

Several minutes later, Ian pulled away. “We must stop, Belle. Your aunt will wonder where we have gone.”

She nodded. “You are right.”

Taking the pamphlets from where Ian had dropped them on the bed, she lifted her skirt for the third time that night. After securing them she turned to Ian. His brooding expression made her nervous.

“Ye canna keep exposing yourself to risk for your cause.” Her heart sank. “I cannot stop. It is too important.” He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “’Tis just what my gran-da thought.

He gave up everything for his cause.”

“What do you mean, Ian?” Finally, she would understand his mixed messages regarding her cause. He didn’t seem offended by the nature of the cause, but by the risks she took for it.

He turned away from her and moved toward the window that looked out into the black night. “My grandfather did not believe in English rule and he sacrificed everything to fight against it, his family, his estates, his life.” He swung back around to face her and the intensity in his eyes frightened her. “The price was too high, lass.”

“This is not the same thing, Ian. The fight for the Rights of Women does not require that sort of sacrifice.” He had to believe her. He had to understand. She could not give up the one thing that had saved her from despair after her parents’ deaths.

“No sacrifice? If you had been killed at the riot, would ye call that no sacrifice?” She shook her head. “But I wasn’t killed, or even in danger of dying.” Remembering the look on the angry man’s face when Ian tossed him away, she wasn’t absolutely sure on that point, but saw no reason to fuel Ian’s fear.

“And tonight? If our engagement had ended because of Renton’s actions when he caught you half-naked, would it have been worth it? No one would blame me for breaking our betrothal after what I witnessed.” He took her shoulders in a powerful grip.

“Is it worth it, Belle? Is it?”

Her throat constricted. She willed herself to stay calm. He did not mean it. He would not break off their association over something so trivial.

“Don’t make me answer that. Do not make me choose between you and my beliefs.” She couldn’t help it, her voice cracked.

He glared at her. “Dinna cry, lass.”

She brushed at the moisture under her eyes. “I’m not.” He sighed. “Aye, you are.” He opened his arms and after a brief hesitation, she ran into them.

“You won’t break the engagement, will you?” She spoke against his waistcoat.

He rubbed his chin on the top of her head. “Nay, lass. I fought too hard to get you.

I’m never letting you go.”

Her relief was so profound that her tears spilled over and slipped silently down her cheeks. “It will be all right, Ian. You must trust me.” He pulled away from her and met her gaze with tender eyes. “Aye. But you must compromise with me, Belle.”

Compromise sounded better than choosing between him and her beliefs. “What do you have in mind?”

“I want to know all of your plans before you do them and you will not attend any more lectures without me.” The tenderness in his eyes had given way to implacability.

She did not mind. “You would go to the lectures with me?”

“Aye. If it is safe to attend.”

She nodded. He would take some convincing at times, but she trusted him. If he promised her now, he would not renege later. He would not use estate business or a full schedule to get out of taking her. She sensed that Ian would always fulfill his promises to her to his utmost ability.

“I agree to your compromise.” She thought for a minute. She owed him complete honesty. “But there may be times I forget to tell you first. Sometimes, I act on the spur of the moment.”

His smile felt like the sun coming out after a bone-chilling fog. “I ken, Belle.” He squeezed her one last time before setting her away from him. “We must go. I have something of import to discuss with your squire.” The look of cold menace was back in Ian’s eyes.

“He’s not my squire,” she protested, offended at Ian’s choice of words. He clearly was not completely over his anger at finding her in the arms of another man.

Ian did not respond and moved toward the door.

“Wait. Ian, what do you need to discuss with Squire Renton?”

“’Tis between gentlemen, Belle. You need not concern yourself.” She flew at him. Grasping his arm, she shook it. “Tell me what you are talking about.” She had a terrible feeling that she already knew. “Ian, you cannot mean to challenge him.”

The idea was too ridiculous. This was the nineteenth century. Gentlemen had far more civilized means of settling their differences.

“I can no let the insult pass, Belle. He had his bloody hands all over you.” Ian had to be joking. The set of his jaw and look in his eyes said otherwise.

“I forbid it.” She tried to shake him, but found him as moveable as a mountain. “You will not challenge the squire. It was just a misunderstanding.”

“I dinna call finding my fiancée pinned to the bed by a lecherous fiend a misunderstanding.” The rigidity in his voice convinced Annabelle that Ian was determined to follow through with his plan.

That did not stop her from trying to convince him otherwise. “You are taking it too much to heart. I’m sure he has already learned his lesson. I did strike him after all.” Amusement gleamed briefly in Ian’s eyes. “Aye, lass, y