As Luck Would Have It (29 page)

“You will?” she asked dazedly. She blinked once and suddenly came to herself. “No, wait! I mean you won’t! You won’t procure a special license tomorrow because I am not going to marry you.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I believe I just told you I was not.”

“Why not?” he demanded.

Because you won’t let me return to my father.

Because I might fall in love with you.

Because I might be in love with you already.

Because I’ll have to pay for it all later.

“Because I don’t want to.” Good Lord, she sounded like a five-year-old.

“You don’t want to marry at all,” he pointed out reasonably. “Unfortunately, it’s clear you haven’t a choice in the matter—”

“I have the choice of
who
I will marry.”

“And you’ll choose one of these?” Alex waved the list at her angrily. “One of these fops or old men? For God’s sake, Sophie, Mr. Colton is seventy years old if he’s a day!”

“He’s three-and-sixty, and he has—” she cut off abruptly.

“Has what?”

She squirmed uncomfortably in her seat.

“And he has
what?
” Alex repeated.

“A very nice disposition,” she offered lamely.

Alex didn’t even bother acknowledging that pathetic attempt at evasion. “What does he have, Sophie? What does he possess that makes him such a fine catch?”

She really didn’t want to embark on a conversation with Alex regarding her desire not to beget an heir. She couldn’t envision it leading into anything that wasn’t either vaguely insulting or blatantly embarrassing.

“One more time, Sophie—”

God, but he was stubborn.

“An heir,” she snapped. “He possesses an heir. Almost all of them do. Are you quite satisfied?”

Alex didn’t answer her at first. He just looked over the list again to confirm her statement, then said, “I see,” in such a way that Sophie knew she would have to explain.

She took a deep, and she hoped calming, breath. “I wish to marry a gentleman who is not concerned with the production of an heir. I plan to return to my father.”

She watched Alex’s face for a reaction, but aside from the
muscle twitching in his cheek, which had been going on all night, his expression was unreadable.

“Sophie.” Alex’s voice was soft and calm, meant to lull. Naturally, it immediately put her on edge. “Do you really believe any of these men will be willing to abandon a pretty young wife to the other side of the world?”

“Yes,” she replied firmly. “It is to be part of the marriage contract, or at least agreement. It will be a marriage in name only.”

Alex set the list down and took a few steps toward her. “And is that what you really want? A marriage in name only?”

“Yes.” Her voice was a little less firm this time around so she added, “I believe I’ve made as much clear.”

Alex shook his head slowly. “No. What you made clear is what you need. I’m asking you what you want.” He stopped in front of her. “What do you want, Sophie?”

He took one of her hands in his and gently pulled her to her feet. “Do you want to live the rest of your life alone?”

She wanted to tell him she wouldn’t be alone. She’d have her father, Mrs. Summers, and Mr. Wang. She’d have her friends. But the words never reached her lips, partially because he was standing so close she could feel the heat of him, and partially because she knew that wasn’t what he meant by alone.

“Don’t you want a family of your own, Sophie? Don’t you want children?”

She nodded. She couldn’t help herself. She did want those things. She wanted them so much she could smell them, feel them, taste them in her mouth.

Alex gave her a small, sad smile and brought his other hand up to cup her neck and tilt her head toward him.

“And what about passion, Sophie?” he whispered, leaning closer. “Don’t you want this?”

His lips met hers softly, gently, a question.

Sophie wanted to say yes. She wanted to marry Alex and spend the rest of her life kissing him. Just like this.

She wasn’t sure how long they stood there. As always, when Alex kissed her, she lost all awareness of her surroundings, and when he finally pulled away she might have said only a minute had passed or she might have guessed an hour.

“What is your answer, Sophie?”

It took a moment for her to remember what he was asking. He still had his arms about her, and she still felt curiously warm and heady.

Eventually, she gathered her scattered thoughts well enough to ask, “Why?”

She wasn’t certain why that question was so important to her at the moment, or even if she knew what response she wanted to hear. She only knew it seemed necessary to ask, and to know.

“Why should you marry me?” Alex asked.

She shook her head. “Why do you want to marry me now? You’ve never shown the least bit of interest—”

“I’ve shown an inordinate amount of interest in you.” He pulled back a little to look at her in bewilderment.

“Yes, as a possible mistress—”

“What?” He dropped his arms in shock. “Where in God’s name did you hear that?”

“I didn’t,” she said, growing a little confused herself. “I merely assumed—”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because you speak quite plainly to me, make advances of an intimate nature, and you were most emphatic about not sending flowers or writing poetry. I was under the impression that was how one wooed a mistress.”

Alex stared at her for a long time, his expression unreadable.

“Was I wrong?” Sophie asked to make him talk.

“No.” His voice came out a choked whisper. “No, you are right. That is how one treats a mistress…. God, that never occurred to me.”

Unsure of how else to respond to that admission, Sophie just nodded. “And I’d heard you’d made a vow. A pledge not to marry until the age of forty.”

“Forty,” Alex repeated, remembering that ridiculous ruse. “Bloody hell.” He stepped forward, taking her hands in his own. “I never intended to make you my mistress, Sophie. I am deeply sorry—”

“No, don’t apologize,” Sophie pleaded, hating to see him look so miserable. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I’ve insulted you.”

“No, you haven’t,” she insisted. “The role of a duke’s mistress is a highly coveted position by many women.”

“You deserve better than that.”

“Why, because I was born a wealthy viscount’s daughter?” Sophie asked, shaking her head. “I am not a better woman—”

“Yes, you are.” Alex stated with quiet authority, capturing her chin with his fingers. “You’re better than all of them. You are the most amazing woman I know. I didn’t woo you in the traditional manner because I thought a different approach would prove more effective. I was under the impression that poorly written poetry would fail to impress you.”

“Oh. Well, it doesn’t impress me overmuch,” she said honestly. “But a tulip or two wouldn’t have gone amiss.”

Every girl liked getting flowers after all.

Alex smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind for the future. Does this mean you’ll marry me?”

Sophie grimaced. “I’d like to, Alex.”

He dropped his hand. “But you won’t.”

“You need an heir,” she pointed out. “And I need to take care of my father.”

“Well that’s not so very difficult. We’ll send for your father first thing and look after him together. You shouldn’t bear the weight of that responsibility alone—”

“It won’t work, Alex. My father will never return to England. There are too many memories of my mother and sister here.”

“Then we’ll—”

A muffled thumping noise in the back of the house cut him off.

“Stay here,” he ordered, heading toward the parlor doors.

Sophie grabbed at his arm. “No. It’s one of the servants, or the driver back early. If you’re seen here, I’ll be ruined. You stay here and I’ll send them off to bed.”

Alex looked torn. “It could be an intruder.”

Sophie grabbed a nearby candlestick. “Then I’ll scream for you,” she promised in a hurried whisper. Then, realizing how little that seemed to console him, she bolted out of the room before he could stop her.

She hadn’t gone far before remembering the eerie sensation of being followed she had felt earlier. Cursing herself for a fool, she pulled one out one of her knives and immediately turned back. It was quite likely that the only intruder was a member of the staff, but under the circumstances, it seemed wise to take Alex along for further investigation.

It was one thing to be ruined, quite another to be injured or dead.

She made it past the study doors when she heard them swing open behind her. She felt a blinding pain radiate down the back of her head. And then she felt nothing at all.

Twenty-three

S
ophie woke to find her hands tied behind her, her feet bound, her mouth gagged, her muscles aching, her head pounding, and the whole of her moving.

They were in the back of a wagon. She eyed the small beams of sunlight sneaking through spaces between the boards and
guessed she had been unconscious for at least four hours, maybe more. If she could see the sun’s position, she’d know for certain, but there was some sort of tarp pulled tight over the top, allowing her just enough room to sit up.

Carefully wiggling her trussed form closer to the side of the wagon, she peered through the cracks between the wood and caught glimpses of passing countryside. They had brought her out of London. She sighed and closed her eyes, allowing her head to rest against the wood for a moment. She hadn’t the vaguest notion who “they” might be.

Next to her, Alex moaned softly.

Dear God, Alex! She’d gotten him into this. She didn’t know the identity of their kidnappers, but if the pain at the back of her head was any indication, they had few qualms about hurting their captives. Alex had been harmed because of her. He could be killed because of her. The thought set off a wave of fury and panic, prodding her to action.

She nudged Alex with her shoulder, leaned over and mumbled in his ear as loud as she dared, but he gave no further sign of waking.

She scooted until her back was against the roughened planks, then felt along with her bound hands until she found a particularly jagged piece of wood. Maneuvering herself, she felt the wood catch at the skin of her cheek, then, thankfully, at the gag. It took several painful tries but eventually she was able to pull the offending fabric out of her mouth.

Now the hard part. Sophie took several deep breaths and allowed her body to relax the way Mr. Wang had taught her. Then she bent forward at the waist. It was unfortunate that her remaining knife was strapped to the back side of her ankle for she’d never be able to reach it with her mouth. On the other hand, it had been immensely lucky that the kidnappers had tied her feet one on top the other. She could fold herself into a kind of cross-legged position that allowed her mouth to reach the insides of her ankles.

She lost all track of time pulling, gnawing, and tugging at the
knots in the ropes. Her back and neck felt like they were on fire, but she didn’t stop. She still had to contend with Alex’s ropes. She’d like to be able to use her hands. It wouldn’t be too difficult to maneuver her back to his feet and hands, but her fingers had grown completely numb and she probably wouldn’t be able to manage anything more effective than a slap. She’d get their feet first. They needed their feet to run. Then she’d work on Alex’s hands if she still had the energy. Or maybe she should get Alex’s hands first and hope he woke up quickly. That way—

“What in God’s name are you doing?”

Sophie’s head snapped up at the sound of Alex’s shocked whisper. “How did you ungag…
How did you untie yourself?
”

Alex reached over and finished untying her feet. “Sloppy knot at my wrists. Turn around.”

Sophie began to turn but stopped at the sound of Alex sharply indrawn breath. “You’re hurt.”

“Of course I’m hurt. We were hit over the head, remember? Or, at least I was.”

Alex reached up and touched her cheek. His finger came away bloody.

“Oh,” she whispered. She hadn’t realized the wood had cut her face that deeply.

Alex swore viciously, his face hardening into a savage mask. “Turn around,” he ordered again.

She didn’t take offense at his abrupt tone. He wasn’t angry at her. Not yet, anyway.

He made quick work of her binds, then pulled off his cravat and handed it to her. “Hold it against your cheek.”

He reached to the back of the wagon and prodded gently where the tarp met the wood. “Damn it, there’s rope every two inches. They weren’t taking any chances.”

“They took some.” Sophie handed him her knife. “They didn’t bother searching me.”

Alex looked as if he wanted to ask how she came to be carrying a knife but seemed to think better of it. He applied the
knife to the fabric, cutting away a small hole closest to the floorboards. A crisscrossing of rope appeared on the other side and Sophie couldn’t help feeling as if they’d been caged.

Alex motioned her closer. “I need you to hold the rope, Sophie. Drop the bandage and use both hands if you have to.”

Sophie nodded and set aside the bloodstained cravat, grateful that her fingers were no longer numb. If they cut the ropes completely loose they might unravel, causing the tarp to shift or billow. It would give them away. Alex cut the first rope, then carefully tied the two loose ends to another strand two feet over. He repeated the process four times, making sure each time to connect the ends to a piece of rope that was still intact and taut. It seemed to take forever. But finally, they had an opening wide enough for a person to slip through. Sophie looked down at the road passing beneath the wheels and gulped.

“Not here,” Alex whispered. “There’s no cover. We need to wait.”

Sophie forced herself to nod. She knew he was right. They were passing open fields where there was no place to hide. Knowing he was right, however, did nothing to stem the tide of panic that threatened to overwhelm her.

She wanted to leave
now.

If she had to throw herself from a moving wagon to escape violent kidnappers, she wanted to bloody well get it over with. She didn’t want to sit and wait, giving her fear an opportunity to grow to unmanageable proportions, and the kidnappers a chance to discover what they were about.