Man of My Dreams (17 page)

Devlin dove under the water, swimming the length of the pond twice before he surfaced for air. He had taken to coming here each morning for a swim because he couldn’t stomach the stable at this time of day, since Megan had stopped showing up for her morning rides. He didn’t like it that he’d driven her away from not only the stable but also her home. He didn’t like the guilt she was making him feel, when he didn’t have all that much to feel guilty about. And he certainly didn’t like it that he could barely remember what had caused it all. If she hadn’t clarified the matter that one time he was able to see her at her friend’s house, he still might be convinced that he’d dreamed the whole thing.

But he hadn’t dreamed it. He’d made love
to Megan Penworthy. And it had been unbelievably nice—up to the time of penetration when he’d realized what he was doing, and so had she. The shock of it had ruined it for them both. Even his climax, uncontrolled and unwanted at that point, had been the worst he’d ever experienced. Yet he knew instinctively that it could have been the best.

But it shouldn’t have happened at all. He’d been fighting his emotions since he met her, and succeeding admirably, or so he thought. And if he hadn’t put so much brandy into his system that day, he would bloody well have insisted she leave the stable, rather than just suggesting it. Of course, he wouldn’t have tried to drown himself in drink if she hadn’t driven him crazy with lust the night before.

And now she wouldn’t even let him do the honorable thing. Not that he wanted to marry a temperamental, spoiled redhead. He certainly didn’t. So why did it infuriate him that she’d refused him? Simple wounded pride that she’d prefer anyone but him? Probably.

He dove under again, pressing it for three lengths this time, but didn’t quite make it, surfacing with burning lungs in the center of the pond. A toss of his head got the hair and most of the water out of his eyes, but the sight that greeted him left him doubting his vision. Megan, dismounting from Sir Ambrose and walking up to the edge of the pond—and right into it, clothes and all. Nor did she stop until she reached him, and the second she
reached him, she cracked her palm against his cheek, then slammed both fists against his bare chest.

Devlin let her beat at him for a moment before he asked, quite reasonably under the circumstances, “What the devil do you think you’re doing?”

She shouted her answer. “You bloody rotten bastard, if you weren’t so tall, I’d drown you!”

“Why?”

“Because I want to murder you!” She hit him once more to stress her point, then said, “Why couldn’t you just kiss me like I asked you to?”

“When?”

“You know when! Why did you have to ruin it by making love to me?”

He almost laughed at the absurdity of that question. Any other woman he had been kissing like he had been kissing Megan would have been furious if he
hadn’t
finished by making love to her. Of course, none of those other women would have been virgins.

“The kind of kissing we were doing that night generally does lead to lovemaking, brat,” he explained. “And why the sudden fireworks over it? You weren’t this mad when it happened.”

“I was, too,” she insisted. “But I was still in shock then.”

His brow rose at that sulky reply. “It’s taken you three weeks to come out of shock?”

She hit him again. “It’s taken this long to find out that you’ve ruined me! I’m going to be disgraced!” she wailed. “I’m going to be a scandal!”

The dramatics suddenly made sense to him. He’d been expecting it; she obviously hadn’t. “Is this your pleasant way of informing me that you’re enceinte?”

“Yes, you stupid—”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” he asked reasonably.

She stared at him incredulously for a moment before she turned and walked away in disgust. But she couldn’t do so very quickly in the water, and he had only to reach out an arm to grab her back, which he did.

“I’m sorry, Megan, but there have been other females who’ve made the claim that I’d fathered their babes, and I bloody well hadn’t.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you trying to say it’s not possible that I could be carrying your child?”

“Not at all. If you are carrying a child, it most certainly is mine, and I’ll take full responsibility for it. Only, are you sure?”

“No, I’m not sure!” she shouted up at him. “How can I be sure this soon? But I’m a week late for my—I’m late, and I’m never late!”

“There’s no need to get hysterical. I offered to marry you whether there was a babe or not, if you’ll recall.” Then he frowned. “Didn’t I?”

Megan started at the question, her eyes
rounding. “Don’t you remember?”

“Until I saw you at the Robertses’ house, I wasn’t sure if I hadn’t dreamed the whole thing. Apparently not, but I’m still not crystal clear on everything that happened.”

“Well, don’t expect me to remind you. I’m trying to forget it myself.”

His other hand joined the one holding her to give her a little shake. “One thing I am certain of is that you refused to leave when I advised you to, because you were enjoying yourself too bloody much. The only thing you’d like to forget is the end, and frankly, so would I. But as that’s not possible any longer, there’s no point in bemoaning it further.”

“I’ll bemoan it if I—”

He shook her again. “Megan, don’t provoke me. D’you think I want to marry a spoiled brat who doesn’t care a damn about me? But I’ve got no choice and neither do you.”

“But it’s not fair!” she cried. “You can’t give me the big house I wanted so I could impress Lady O. All you can offer me is my own stable. And you don’t love me either. You probably just want to marry me because you think it will bring you a step up in the world. But it won’t, you know. It’s not going to make you a gentleman. That takes—”

“That’s quite enough, brat,” he interrupted coldly. “All that self-pity is turning my stomach. Did it occur to you even once that I might have had other plans for my life that didn’t include you? Do you ever think of anyone but
yourself and what
you
want?”

That was unfair and he knew it. What Tyler had told him about her proved she did occasionally consider other people’s feelings. But her near hysteria over the possibility of marrying him was shredding his pride to bits. Of course, from her point of view, he had no prospects, was below even untitled gentry, and was therefore utterly unsuitable as husband material. And if he was who she thought he was, that would be perfectly true.

He knew he ought to tell her the truth, which would turn her distress into a cause for rejoicing—at least for her. Damned if he would. It was the horse breeder she’d come to to satisfy her sexual curiosity. It was the horse breeder she could bloody well marry.

She’d been glaring at him after his question and turning quite red in the face because he’d dared to criticize her. “Who says I’m going to marry you, anyway?” she demanded now. “Do you know how many gentlemen of this parish have asked me to marry them?”

“And you burned your bridges, turning down every one of them.”

“Which doesn’t mean I can’t change my mind, does it? So you can get on with the great plans you have for your life. I have no intention of complicating them.”

She looked like she just might mean it, which made Devlin angry enough to shake her again. “Self-sacrifice doesn’t suit you one little bit, brat. And you aren’t marrying anyone else
while you’re carrying
my
child. We’re going to elope to Gretna Green.”

“What?!”

“Your father will give his approval after I speak with him.”

“No, he won’t. You’re mad!”

“It will give the marriage a romantic aspect. Otherwise the gossips will tear you apart, counting the days until you give birth.”

“They’re going to tear me apart, anyway, for marrying a horse breeder.”

“Then you agree?”

“I didn’t say that,” she grumbled. “I won’t live in a stable.”

“You’ll live where I live.”

“I suppose we could share my room.”

“I’m not moving into your father’s house!” he said with clear finality.

She went on as if she hadn’t heard a single word. “And it will be costly, but we can improve your wardrobe. And—oh, what’s the point? No one is ever going to mistake you for a gentleman. For one thing, you’re a damned bully. Have you been listening to yourself?”

“I was beginning to think I was the only one who was,” he replied dryly.

“I’m trying to find a compromise here, but you’re not letting me.”

“No, what you’re doing is what you have a bad habit of doing, thinking you can have everything your own way. I hate to be the one to break this to you, Megan.” He didn’t sound the least bit distressed. “But the wife
does what the husband tells her, not the other way around.”

“Which is a good reason why I can’t marry you. If you loved me, you’d try to please me, but you don’t love me, so you’re going to make me miserable.”

“I’m not going to make you miserable,” he gritted out between clenched teeth. “I’m going to make you my wife. The two are
not
synonymous!”

“In your case they will be,” she maintained with infuriating stubbornness.

Devlin took his hands off her before he
really
shook her. “Go home, Megan. Pack a bag. We will leave directly after I speak to your father.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” she said with some surprise. “You really think you can get my father’s permission to marry me? You’re dreaming, Devlin. The only way he’d agree is if I tell him it’s what I want. And the baby won’t make a difference, if that’s what you’re thinking. He’ll find me another husband.”

“Then shall we leave the decision to him? If he agrees, you’ll go along with it?”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You aren’t planning to bully him like you do me, are you?”

“I don’t bully you, damn it!” She snorted, as if his response merely proved her point, so he continued with a little less volume. “I have no intention of bullying your father. Do we have a deal?”

“Yes,” she snapped with ill grace, only to add loftily, “But there’s no point in my packing. You won’t get his permission without my help, and I still don’t think I want to marry you.”

“But you will if he says so?” he demanded, wanting it clarified.

“I’ve already answered that.”

“Good. Then consider yourself engaged.” He picked her up and gave her a short, hard kiss before setting her back in the water, turning her, and giving her a little push toward the bank.

She went, but she was only halfway out of the water when she turned back to say something else, only to finally notice his condition. “Good God, Devlin, you’re naked!”

Her surprised expression was priceless. To have been so angry with him that she hadn’t noticed a body she’d previously been fascinated with—he started laughing and couldn’t stop, not even to tell her, “And you’re wading in a pond with your clothes on.”

Just as well. She wouldn’t have appreciated having that pointed out any more than she did his humor.

It wasn’t possible that she was on her way to Scotland to be married. Only how many times did Megan have to repeat that to herself before it became true? The countryside they passed through continued to change. The miles continued to fall behind them. They were traveling steadily north—to Scotland—to be married.

They’d brought a footman along to take the carriage back, because Devlin planned to rent a coach as soon as a decent one could be found. In Somerset he’d found better than decent; he’d left her at an inn and come back with the Earl of Sedgemeer’s sumptuous private coach, complete with a coat of arms emblazoned on the doors, and the earl’s own driver.

Megan had looked the vehicle over dubiously, prompting Devlin to explain, “I told the earl we’d been set upon by robbers, had all our money and clothes stolen, as well as our carriage.”

“And out of the goodness of his heart, he hands over his own coach to you?” she scoffed.

“I also told him I was the Duke of Wrothston. The man couldn’t do enough for me after that. Even threw in the driver. I do look like St. James, you know.”

“I’ve met him, remember? And you don’t look anything like him.” Which should have told Devlin that if he said the sky was blue, Megan would insist it was green.

But the luxurious coach at least made the trip tolerable, if her traveling companion didn’t. Having Caesar along also helped: it got Devlin out of the coach for long stretches at a time.

Megan had wanted to bring Sir Ambrose along, too, but Devlin had flatly denied her request. Bossing her around already, and not even married yet. The man was going to be impossible to live with. Traveling with him was just as bad. And it was a long trip, with more than three hundred miles to reach Scotland and the renowned Gretna Green, where eager-to-be-marrieds had been going for decades; couples too impatient to wait the three weeks for the posting of banns, or couples who didn’t have parental blessing—which Megan did.

That parental blessing still confounded her. No, what confounded her was that her father had seemed so genuinely
happy
when he’d come out of his study with Devlin to congratulate her and say how delighted he was that she’d chosen such a “fine man” to be her husband. He’d gone on to say other things appropriate to the moment, but Megan got stuck on that “fine man” and looked at Devlin as if he were suddenly a devil capable of casting spells of enchantment. Too bad he hadn’t cast one on her.

She was too upset to accept this monumental change in her life happily. She might have been contemplating that same change, but having it forced on her
and
Devlin wasn’t the same. She intended to keep silent about it, however, because she knew her upset would come out negatively and that certainly wouldn’t help.

The trouble with that decision was she couldn’t stand the silence beyond the second day and waited only until Devlin was about to doze off in the afternoon to say, “I don’t understand it. What could you possibly have said to my father to make him so happy about a union between us?”

He didn’t bother to open his eyes to reply. “I told him I loved you, of course, and that my only wish is to make you deliriously happy.”

The words caused a pang in her heart, because she knew they weren’t true. “I see nothing funny in this situation.”

“That’s one of your problems, brat. You’ve got a rotten sense of humor.”

“Well, you’ve had your little joke—tasteless, by the way. Now answer my question.”

“I told him the truth, Megan.”

“That you seduced me?”

“I believe it was the other way around.”

“It was not,” she retorted indignantly.

He opened one eye to say, “I asked you for kissing lessons, did I?”

“My point exactly,” she pounced. “Kissing lessons I asked for, not lessons in that other thing you did.”

He sighed. “I’ve accepted responsibility for my part. Obviously you’re not going to do the same.”

“Why should I when the fault is entirely yours?”

“Have it your way,” he replied tiredly and closed both eyes again.

Megan brooded silently for several minutes before she said, “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Perhaps because talking to you is too infuriating to continue for any length of time.” When she didn’t respond, he looked over to see her staring forlornly out the window. “Bloody hell,” he swore. “What the devil do you think I told him? I confessed that I’d got you with child. He happens to be of the firm belief that a child belongs with both parents—both
real
parents—so my offer of marriage was readily accepted. He would have preferred
the marriage to come first, naturally, but he understands how these things can happen.”

“Did you have to tell him about the baby?”

“You’re the one who said it wouldn’t make any difference, that he’d merely find you another husband. Well, you were wrong, Megan. He’d prefer you have the father of your child. And yes, I had to tell him about the baby, to explain the reason for a hasty elopement.”

“That doesn’t really say why he was so
happy
about it,” she grumbled.

Devlin shrugged. “Unlike some people whom I shall refrain from naming, the squire happens to like me. He’s not displeased with your choice.”

“
I
didn’t choose you.”

“I believe he sees it differently—considering your condition.”

Megan made no response to that, but settled for simply glowering at him, which he chose to ignore by once again closing his eyes. It didn’t take long for her to slump back into dejection again.

This was
not
how she had imagined her wedding all the times she had fantasized about it. Granted, the man of her dreams was sitting across from her, the most handsome man she’d ever encountered. That part was fine, better than even she could have imagined, actually. And he was determined to marry her. That part was all right, too. So why was she miserable instead of ecstatic?

Because he doesn’t love me
.

What’s there to love about you lately?

Are you taking his side again?

Are you saying you haven’t been the veriest bitch since he first showed up?

Possibly, but with a great deal of provocation, or are you forgetting all the times I’ve been insulted, offended, or otherwise goaded into losing my temper? Besides that’s not the only reason. Am I supposed to be delighted that he’s being forced to marry me?

I didn’t hear him complaining about it until you started blaming him for everything. And I thought you weren’t going to do that
.

I wasn’t when it was only my life that was going to be ruined. But I’m not about to take full responsibility for ruining his life, too
.

Shouldn’t he be a bit angrier than he’s been if he really felt his life was being ruined by you?

You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But when does he ever do anything that you might expect?

You haven’t been doing much of the expected, either, lately. You won’t even admit you’re getting what you want—him
.

Megan snorted without realizing it, then wondered why Devlin was suddenly looking at her with raised brows. “What?” she said disagreeably. “Haven’t you anything better to do than stare at me?”

The unprovoked attack amused him for some reason. “I was trying to sleep, but you seem determined to see that I don’t. Bored, Megan?”

“Certainly not. I’ve been having a perfectly stimulating conversation with myself.”

“There’s no need to be sarcastic.”

“I wasn’t. In fact, you may as well know that you’re going to marry someone who frequently talks to herself. It’s not too late to change your mind and take me home, you know.”

“And miss my only chance to step up in the world?”

Megan frowned, sensing his sudden rage as if it touched her physically, yet his expression hadn’t changed. And then his eyes closed once more, and she wasn’t about to protest, a bit unnerved by his anger this time.

But she complained to herself,
Can’t he ever do what’s expected? I give him the perfect out, that I just might be crazy, and he gets angry
.

Don’t look to me for answers this time. I’m as baffled as you are
.