The Inheritance (20 page)

“Mr. Calloway? Are you leaving already?”

Colin turned and found he hadn’t the breath to answer. It was Lady Roanna, looking very, very lovely.

She removed the damp woolen shawl she had used to protect her head and shoulders from the rain
and laid it across a stall door. He noticed for the first time that her lavender dress was cut into a V in front. There wasn’t much skin exposed, but it was the promise of feminine flesh a bare inch out of sight that left him gulping.

Colin knew it was a dumb move to let himself fall any more deeply in love with her than he already was, but he had no idea how to stop this sort of thing once it had gotten started. He reminded himself he was going back to America in the spring. He reminded himself of his father’s warning that no woman was worth the heartache she generally caused.

It did no good. He was already too far gone.

It took a moment for Colin to realize that Lady Roanna had come alone. “Does anyone know you’re out here?”

She blushed. “I know it isn’t proper. But I couldn’t let you leave without telling you how much I appreciate your help entertaining Lord Frederick. Do you really have to go?”

He wasn’t about to take the chance of insulting her by admitting his true feelings about Lord Frederick. “My father has some work for me at home,” he lied.

“Oh? May I ask what?”

Her question proved what his father had always said. Liars get caught. “The truth is, there isn’t any work at home. I just … I …”

“You don’t like Lord Frederick.”

He left the stall and stepped into the aisle of the stable, not more than two feet from her. “How did you know?”

She grinned at him, an impish look that suggested
she shared his feelings. “He is a bit affected, isn’t he?”

“A bit?”

“All right. He’s excessively pretentious.”

“Plumb full of foofaraw.”

Her grin widened and a dimple appeared in her left cheek. “You have Freddy pegged, I’m afraid. I’m sorry. I should have known better than to force you into his company.”

“Freddy? What happened to Lord Frederick?”

Roanna’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “I’ve known Freddy since he was in knee britches. He hasn’t improved much with age. His parents and mine keep throwing us together.”

“Surely they don’t intend for you to marry that clothhead,” Colin said, aghast.

“Not right away, of course. But it’s been suggested.” Roanna lowered her eyes to studiously observe the toes of her patent leather half boots.

Colin acted without thinking. He slipped his arm around her waist and drew her to him, then put his finger beneath her chin to tip it up so he could see her eyes. “That would be a terrible waste.”

Her eyes were the color of Texas bluebonnets, more a soft lavender than an actual blue, wide and innocent and not the least bit wary. Colin knew he was playing with fire.
Just a taste
, he thought.
Just one taste
.

He lowered his mouth, waiting for any sign of repugnance from her. Her tongue slicked her lips and disappeared again. She stopped breathing entirely when he lowered his mouth to hers.

Her lips were soft and damp and surrendered to his without resistance. He had barely touched his
mouth to hers when her body instinctively arched toward him. His head spun as he tasted her and felt the contours of her body against his own. Her hands slid around his waist and up his back. He lifted his head to look down at her. He wasn’t sure what it was he was seeking, something in her eyes, anything in her expression that would tell him what she was thinking, what she was feeling.

Colin hadn’t believed himself to be infected with his father’s cynicism toward women. And yet it seemed his feelings weren’t so virginal, so untouched by skepticism, after all. He couldn’t kiss Roanna—in his mind he had dropped the title long ago—without wondering why she was acting in a manner so foreign to what he knew was proper for a young English lady.

Did she care for him at all? Did she love him? Or, because of who he was—a bastard and a foreigner—had she come to the stable merely to seek a diversion, a bit of illicit adventure?

Roanna’s eyes were half lidded, and she was pliant in his arms. Obviously she welcomed his embrace, his kisses. But did she want any more than that? Would she be willing to go with him to America when he left? Was she committed to him, as he felt himself becoming committed to her?

“Colin?” she said. “What’s wrong?”

At least she was perceptive enough to recognize there was a problem. “Why are you here, Roanna?” He had dropped the title on purpose, to see what she would do and say.

She merely flushed guiltily. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I think you do.”

Her eyes flashed up at him. “I don’t normally do this sort of thing.”

“Don’t you?” His brow was arched in disbelief, his mouth as cynical as his father’s had ever been. “You haven’t been kissed before?”

Her flush deepened. “Not like that,” she said in a barely audible voice.

“I hope the experiment turned out well for you,” he said as he released her and took a step back. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

She put a hand on his arm to stop him. “Colin …”

He felt his blood thrum at the sound of his name on her lips. This was what his father had been warning him about all those years. A woman had weapons a man couldn’t imagine. He looked at Roanna and saw them all. Eyes that were so liquid you could drown in them. A mouth so inviting you could lose yourself there. Flesh that was so soft and sweet it made you hunger till you thought you’d die if you didn’t taste it.

He looked down to where her hand clutched at his sleeve. “What do you want from me, Roanna?” he asked in a harsh voice. He wasn’t happy about having to let her go, even though he knew it was the right thing to do.

“I … I’m sorry, Colin,” she said. “I didn’t mean—”

“You don’t have to say any more.” He jerked his arm free. “I get the message. I’m not good enough to marry, but a little fling in the hay won’t cause any harm. Although I’d like to hear how you’re going to explain the slight lack of virginity to Freddy on your wedding night.”

He wasn’t expecting the slap, and he didn’t move quickly enough to stop her hand before she caught his cheek. It stung. He felt the blood rush to his face, heating the spot where she had struck him.

“You’re a brute, like your father. I hate you! I’m sorry I ever met you!”

She raced from the stable, but he noticed she didn’t head for the house. Likely she wouldn’t go back there until she had recovered her composure. Which was a good thing for both of them, he supposed. He had some idea what Roanna’s father would do to him if he had an inkling of what had transpired in the stable.

Colin led his horse outside into the rain, mounted, and began the ride back to Severn. He tilted his face so the cool water could get under the brim of his hat and soothe the spot where she had slapped him. For a girl her size, she sure packed a wallop. He had insulted her, so he supposed he deserved her retribution. But he wasn’t sure whether she was angry because he was right, or because he was wrong.

Colin wanted to ask his father for advice but realized Nicholas Calloway was the last person he could turn to. He wished Simp were closer. He needed a dose of the old man’s wisdom. At least he had learned his lesson. He wouldn’t wear his heart on his sleeve again. He would be more careful about where he gave his love.

He wished it were spring already, and they were leaving this place. He liked it better in America, where he knew the rules. Where people were judged by who they were, not who their parents were.

Colin sighed. A few months, and he and his pa
would be on their way home. He would just keep his distance from Lady Roanna Warenne until then.

Colin would have been pleased if he could have seen the confused state in which he had left Roanna. She fled to the gazebo behind the house, which was overgrown with wisteria, creating a private bower in which she could escape detection from the house.

Roanna was agitated and paced the gazebo like a tiger in a five-sided cage. She had never been so insulted by a man! What made it so much worse was the fact that his accusation had been correct. She had been playing with the American, teasing him and hoping to get him to kiss her. She knew he was totally unsuitable as a husband. Her parents had raised her to know her own worth. She was the daughter of an earl. Lady Roanna Christina Warenne would never marry a bastard with no lineage to speak of and no property to his name, even if he could claim a duke as his father.

She touched her lips where Colin had kissed her. She still couldn’t believe how it had felt. Devastating. Delightful. Disastrous. Because now that she had tasted him, now that she knew what it felt like to be held in his arms, she knew she would never be able to touch another man without making a comparison.

How had he affected her so deeply, so quickly? She had only been playing, just teasing and trying out her feminine wiles. She had been more successful than she had ever dreamed. To her surprise, Colin was not like the others whom she had coaxed out onto the terrace at some ball in London for a quick kiss. They had been boys. She included Freddy in that number, even though he was twenty-five.
Colin had kissed her with a man’s desire, looked at her with a man’s hungry need. In his arms, she became a woman worthy of his—

Roanna stopped her thoughts right there. Was there any chance that Colin loved her? Was that what she had seen on his face? Besides the desire, of course. She recognized that for what it was. But the other expression, the one in his searching blue eyes … Had that been love?

Roanna plopped down—as much as a woman could plop when she was wearing a breathlessly snug corset—on the wrought-iron chaise longue that sat along one wall of the gazebo.

What if Colin did love her?

She tried to analyze her feelings for the American and discovered they were all jumbled up, the fault of that kiss in the stable, she supposed. Her first thought was that if he had once loved her, he didn’t anymore. She felt an ache deep inside, regret that she had ruined everything.

Roanna leapt up and began pacing again. It was foolish to regret something that was never destined to be. Colin had already announced he would be leaving England for America in the spring. Even if he hadn’t been a totally ineligible suitor, he wouldn’t be staying in England to marry her. So he was as guilty of toying with her feelings as she was of playing with his.

Unless he planned to take you back to America with him
.

The thought was stunning. Totally unexpected. And caused Roanna to go hunting for the chaise longue again.

The thought of leaving England permanently had
never entered her mind. Like all young ladies, she had hopes of someday traveling on the continent, of buying clothes in Paris and attending the opera in Vienna. But what on earth did one do in America? The only images that came to mind were of cowboys on horseback and red Indians who took scalps. She supposed those ideas might be a little outdated, but truly, she had no other images to replace them.

Roanna sighed. Her father had kept a very protective eye on her for all of her seventeen years. She had yearned for excitement, for something new and different to replace the sameness of life in the country. Colin had provided that excitement. She felt exhilarated when she was with him. His kiss had been thrilling. She had no way of knowing whether Colin had simply relieved the boredom in her life, or whether her feelings for him amounted to a great deal more.

Perhaps it would be better to keep a great deal of distance between herself and the American until she could sort out her turbulent feelings. Unfortunately, that shouldn’t be too difficult. The chances were excellent that, after today’s fiasco, he never wanted to see her again.

Daisy found Nicholas in the library. He was standing in the same spot where she had first met him, staring out the window as Tony had been wont to do. She knew now that all resemblance between the two men ended there.

Daisy had spent a great deal of the time in her bath thinking. She had decided to take Nicholas on a guided tour of the portrait gallery. He might find some Windermere ancestor from whom he had inherited
his looks, or he might not. In any case, it was past time she began to educate him about what he would be giving up if he sold Severn. She also intended to make known to him her suspicions that his aunt might hold the key to the knowledge he sought.

She had decided
not
to speak to Nicholas about his abrupt decision to send for a special license so that they might marry sooner. She was anxious about what would happen when they were man and wife, but she knew that once Nicholas put the ring on her finger she would be in a much better position to negotiate things for the people of Severn. And that, after all, had been her goal from the first.

Nicholas knew Daisy was there, waiting for him to acknowledge her. He hesitated because he wanted to prolong the moment. He inhaled and caught a whiff of the expensive perfume she had donned after her bath. It was a musky smell, not flowery at all. It reminded him of dark places and sex. He wouldn’t have figured Daisy for anything that provocative. Apparently she had depths he hadn’t plumbed. He planned to take his time learning all about her soon—in bed.

At last he turned. He kept his hands clasped behind him, so he wouldn’t be tempted to reach for her. She was wearing another one of those dresses with a dragging tail, this one a combination of orange and rust that brought out the auburn in her hair and made him want to thrust his hands into it.

“Is there something you wanted, Daisy?”

“I thought you might enjoy touring the gallery with me, since it’s still raining.”

He glanced out at the gray sky and the drizzle that was still falling. “When do you think it will stop?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

His head snapped back around. “You sound sure of yourself.”

“I am. I’ve lived here long enough to be able to tell.” She crossed to the window and pointed along the tops of the trees. “See, there. The weather comes from the east. When the sky lightens above the trees, it usually means the end of the rain.”