Kasey Michaels - Romney Marsh Trilogy - A Gentleman by Any Other Name / The Dangerous Debutante / Beware of Virtuous Women

Then she opened her mouth and said precisely what she hadn’t planned to say. “You all went out last night to see if the haul was gone, didn’t you? Because the people who shot those boys also discovered where the goods were being stored, and you wanted to save what you could before they could round up a land party to take it all away.”

Chance looked at her, one eyebrow raised. He may as well have left the woman a detailed note telling her where he’d be off to and why after leaving her bed. “Was all of that a question or a statement?”

“Spencer’s horse is injured. I can’t be sure, but I think he was grazed by a bullet.”

“Spence’s horse? And how do you know it’s Spence’s horse?”

“I was walking with your—with Mr. Becket, and he mentioned it. He…he was upset.”

“Is that so? So you and Ainsley were out walking. Was it an interesting walk?”

“He took me to the village. I had no idea it was there. You’re all your own community.”

How much did she know? How much had she guessed? He carefully measured his next words. “There have been additions and deletions over the years, yes, but we remain fairly self-sufficient. At the moment we’re missing a carpenter.”

“Pike,” Julia said in all innocence, remembering the name Ainsley had told her, then quickly bit her lips together for a moment, as Chance was now looking at her curiously. What on earth had she said wrong this time? “Mr. Becket told me Pike was the ship’s carpenter who carved the mermaid that was once the figurehead on one of his ships. And I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know, am I? Does your cheek hurt?”

He raised a hand to his cheek. Cold compresses had gotten rid of the worst of the swelling, but it was still tender to the touch. This woman missed nothing. “A lucky punch. The man didn’t get in another,” he said, then smiled. “And, since I know you’ll ask sooner or later, Spence is fine. Odette’s with him.”

“Then he was injured, as it was Odette who was put in charge of tending Dickie’s wound.”

“Right on both counts, congratulations. Spence’s wound is little more than a scratch. The boy believes he’s invulnerable. The scratch will only do him good.”

Julia hadn’t really spoken with Spencer Becket yet, but he had made an impression on her. He wasn’t as tall as Chance or Courtland, but he was…intense. Yes, that was the word. His eyes were dark, nearly black, below low, sweeping, dramatic brows. His black wavy hair had been cut to just below his nape and was wild, unruly, constantly falling onto his face, only to have him give his head a quick shake in order to be rid of it. Possibly an arrogant shake? Handsome, as were all the Beckets each in their own way, but with the look of dangerous passions only held in check by a strong will.

Julia looked at Chance, made a comment based on what Eleanor had told her. “Your brother is Spanish.”

Chance shrugged. “Probably, along with who knows what else mixed in. We’re mongrels, Julia, all of us, and rather proud of that fact. The problem with Spence is that, however he came by his blood, that blood often runs hot and his brain doesn’t always tag along on the journey. I was probably twelve or thirteen to his five when Ainsley brought him home, so I never paid him much attention, to be truthful. But he was wild when he came and he’s stayed wild.”

Julia could ask more questions, she supposed, but as she was so nervous she was barely listening to the answers, that didn’t seem fair. Had the raid been successful? Had they recovered their goods? Where was the haul now?

But those were silly questions and really should be none of her concern. She knew only that there had been a fight and both Chance and Spencer had been injured. The thought of Chance hurt, possibly dying? Why did that upset her so? Why did half of her want to pummel him for being so reckless, while the other half of her wanted only to hold him?

“I should go in now,” she said, backing up a step, but Chance put a hand on her arm.

“Not yet. I want to speak with you about what happened between us last night, Julia,” he said, his voice low, his deeply green eyes gone dark. “Please.”

“Why? What is there to say? You bedded a woman, then went riding out on the Marsh to do God knows what. And I…I must be insane.”

He’d hurt her. God, he’d hurt her. Damn him for the bastard he was. “I’m sorry, Julia.”

His apology brought her up short, and made her instantly furious with him. She’d been nervous? Why on earth had she been nervous? “Sorry? You’re sorry? Is that so, Mr. Chance Becket? Well, I’m not sorry. Now what do you have to say to that, Mr. Chance Becket?”

Chance was suddenly so off balance he was surprised he still stood upright. “You cried.”

“I also laughed. I also allowed what happened. Please don’t tell me you thought you’d…you’d—”

“Taken unfair advantage of you,” Chance said quickly, not really wanting to hear the word ravished— or worse—coming from Julia’s mouth.

She lifted her chin. “Because you did no such thing. I am perfectly well aware of what I did.”

But not why she did it. Chance mentally flinched as his conscience pushed out from under the rock he’d placed over it and shouted accusingly in his brain. Not that it had ended that way for him. But it had begun that way, and he should burn in Hades for that.

“So,” he said, measuring his words, “you and I both knew what we were doing last night and neither of us is sorry, although I could argue that I knew much more than you.”

Julia turned her back on him. “There’s no need to be crass.”

“No, there’s not. But there is another need, Julia. Marry me.”

Julia’s eyes went so wide she momentarily feared they’d pop out of her head and drop to the stone terrace, and wouldn’t that be embarrassing! Then she swallowed painfully and turned to face him once more. “I’d really rather not do that, thank you for asking.”

Chance stabbed his fingers through his hair. “Damn it, Julia, it’s not as if we have a choice.”

“How very…flattering,” Julia said, looking up at him, her palms itching either to slap him or to run her fingers through his windswept hair. And slapping him was beginning to win out. “I still must decline the offer.”

“Julia, think, please. I brought you here. I’ve gotten you involved in something very dangerous. I’ve allowed my family to believe that we’re betrothed. All of this is damning enough, but now I’ve completely compromised you and I’m not even sure I understand why I did what I did.”

“My, what flattery. But I believe I understand the why of what you did—what we did,” Julia said, twisting her fingers together in front of her. “Keep the silly spinster busy spinning daydreams and she won’t be any trouble, won’t keep poking her nose into matters that don’t concern her. I must say, reflecting back on the thing, the idea had some merit.”

Chance couldn’t hold back a short closed-mouth cough, as Julia had hit so close to the mark, then decided to go on the offensive. “That’s insulting to both of us, Julia. You’re an attractive woman, a highly attractive woman. I may be ashamed of myself, of my behavior, but I am not sorry I came to your chamber last night. I think we could have a good life together. You seem fond of Alice, for one thing, and you even appear to enjoy my family. I’ve thought about this, Julia. I’ve been thinking about you all morning.”

“Yes, after leaving me last night, already knowing you could be riding off willy-nilly to get yourself captured or killed.”

“So much for your opinion of my abilities, thank you. And as I recall the thing, you asked me not to speak. You asked me to leave.”