Part 11 (1/2)

Elizabeth raised it higher in her shaking hand. ”You have insulted me and degraded me every time I've been in your presence. If my brother were here, he'd call you out! Since he is not here,” she continued almost mindlessly, ”I shall demand my own satisfaction. If I were a man, I'd have the right to satisfaction on the field of honor, and as a woman I refuse to be denied that right.”

”You're ridiculous.”

”Perhaps,” Elizabeth said softly, ”but I also happen to be an excellent shot. I'm a far worthier opponent for you on the dueling field than my brother. Now, will you meet me outside, or shall I-I finish you here?” she threatened, so beside herself with fury that she never stopped to think how reckless, how utterly empty her threat was. Her coachman had insisted she learn to fire a weapon for her own protection, but although her aim was excellent when she'd practiced with targets, she had never shot a living thing.

”I'll do no such silly d.a.m.ned thing.”

Elizabeth raised the gun higher. ”Then I'll have your apology right now.”

”What am I to apologize for?” he asked, still infuriatingly calm.

”You may start by apologizing for luring me into the greenhouse with that note.”

”I didn't write a note. I received a note from you.”

”You have great difficulty sorting out the notes you send and don't send, do you not?” she said. Without waiting for a reply she continued, ”Next, you can apologize for trying to seduce me in England, and for ruining my reputation-”

”Ian!” Jake said, thunderstruck. ”It's one thing to insult a lady's handwriting, but spoilin' her reputation is another. A thing like that could ruin her whole life!”

Ian shot him an ironic glance. ”Thank you, Jake, for that helpful bit of inflammatory information. Would you now like to help her pull the trigger?”

Elizabeth's emotions veered crazily from fury to mirth as the absurdity of the bizarre tableau suddenly struck her. Here she was, holding a gun on a man in his own home, while poor Lucinda held another man at umbrella-point-a man who was trying ineffectually to soothe matters by inadvertently heaping more fuel on the volatile situation. And then she recognized the stupid futility of it all, and that banished her flicker of mirth. Once again this unspeakable man had caused her to make a complete fool of herself, and the realization made her eyes blaze with renewed fury as she turned her head and looked at him.

Despite Ian's apparent nonchalance he had been watching her closely, and he stiffened, sensing instinctively that she was suddenly and inexplicably angrier than before. He nodded to the gun, and when he spoke there was no more mockery in his voice; instead it was carefully neutral. ”I think there are a few things you ought to consider before you use that.”

Though she had no intention of using it, Elizabeth listened attentively as he continued in that same helpful voice. ”First of all, you'll have to be very fast and very calm if you intend to shoot me and reload before Jake there gets to you. Second. I think it's only fair to warn you that there's going to be a great deal of blood all over the place. I'm not complaining, you understand. but I think it's only right to warn you that you're never again going to be able to wear that charming gown you have on.” Elizabeth felt her stomach lurch. ”You'll hang. of course,” he continued conversationally, ”but that won't be nearly as distressing as the scandal you'll have to face first.”

Too disgusted with herself and with him to react to that last mocking remark, Elizabeth put her chin up and managed to say with great dignity, ”I've had enough of this, Mr. Thornton. I did not think-anything could equal your swinish behavior at our prior meetings, but you've managed to do it. Unfortunately, I am not so ill-bred as you and therefore have scruples against a.s.saulting someone who is weaker than I, which is what I would be doing if I were to shoot an unarmed man. Lucinda, we are leaving,” she said, then she glanced back at her silent adversary, who'd taken a threatening step, and she shook her head, saying with extreme, mocking civility, ”No, please-do not bother to see us out, sir, there's no need. Besides, I wish to remember you just as you are at this moment-helpless and thwarted.” It was odd, but now, at the low point of her life, Elizabeth felt almost exhilarated because she was finally doing something to avenge her pride instead of meekly accepting her fate. Lucinda had marched out onto the porch already, and Elizabeth tried to think of something to dissuade him from retrieving his gun when she threw it away outside. She decided to repeat his own advice, which she began to do as she backed away toward the door. ”I know you're loath to see us leave like this,” she said, her voice and her hand betraying a slight, fearful tremor. ”However, before you consider coming after us, I beg you will take your own excellent advice and pause to consider if killing me is worth hanging for.”

Whirling on her heel, Elizabeth took one running step, then cried out in pained surprise as she was jerked off her feet and a hard blow to her forearm sent the gun flying to the floor at the same time her arm was yanked up and twisted behind her back. ”Yes,” he said in an awful voice near her ear, ”I actually think it would be worth it.”

Just when she thought her arm would surely snap, her captor gave her a hard shove that sent her stumbling headlong out into the yard, and the door slammed shut behind her.

”Well! I never,” Lucinda said, her bosom heaving with rage as she glowered at the closed door.

”Neither have I,” said Elizabeth, shaking dirt off her hem and deciding to retreat with as much dignity as possible. ”We can talk about what a madman he is once we're down the path, out of sight of the house. So if you'll please take that end of the trunk?”

With a black look Lucinda complied, and they marched down the path, both of them concentrating on keeping their backs as straight as possible.

In the house Jake above his hands deep in his pockets as he stood at the window watching the women, his expression a mixture of stupefaction and ire. ”Gawd almighty,” he breathed, glancing at Ian, who was scowling at the unopened note in his hand. ”The women are chasin' you clear into Scotland! That'll stop soon as the news is out that yer betrothed.” Reaching up, he idly scratched his bushy red hair and turned back to the window, peering down the path. The women had vanished from view, and he left the window. Unable to hide a tinge of admiration, he added, ”Tell you one thing, that blond gel had s.p.u.n.k, you have to give her that. Cool as can be, she stood there tauntin' you with your own words and calling' you a swine. I don't know a man what would dare to do that.”

”She'd dare anything,” Ian said, remembering the young temptress he'd known. When most girls her age were blus.h.i.+ng and simpering, Elizabeth Cameron had asked him to dance at their first meeting. That same night she'd defied a group of men in the card room; the next day she'd risked her reputation to meet him in a cottage in the woods-and all that merely to indulge in what she'd described in the greenhouse as a ”little weekend dalliance.” Since then she must have been indulging in more of those-and indiscriminately-or else her uncle wouldn't be sending out letters offering to marry her off to virtual strangers. That was the only possible explanation for her uncle's action, an action that struck Ian as unprecedented in its flagrant lack of tact and taste. The only other possible explanation would be a desperate need of a moneyed husband, and Ian discounted that. Elizabeth had been gorgeously and expensively dressed when they met; moreover, the gathering at the country house had been composed almost exclusively of the social elite. And what few s.n.a.t.c.hes of gossip he'd heard of her shortly after that fateful weekend had indicated that she moved among the highest circles of the ton, as befitted her rank.

”I wonder where they'll go,” Jake continued, frowning a little. ”There's wolves out there, and all sorts of beasts.”

”No self-respecting wolf would dare to confront that duenna of hers, not with that umbrella she wields,” Ian snapped, but he felt a little uneasy.

”Oho!” said Jake with a hearty laugh ”So that's what she was? I thought they'd come to court you together. Personally, I'd be afraid to close my eyes with that gray-haired hag in bed next to me.”

Ian was not listening. Idly he unfolded the note, knowing that Elizabeth Cameron probably wasn't foolish enough to have written it in her own girlish, illegible scrawl. His first thought as he scanned the neat, scratchy script was that she'd gotten someone else to write it for her. . . but then he recognized the words, which were strangely familiar, because he'd spoken them himself: Your suggestion has merit. I'm leaving for Scotland on the first of next month and cannot delay the trip again. Would prefer the meeting take place there, in any case. A map is enclosed for direction to the cottage. Cordially -Ian.

”G.o.d help that silly b.a.s.t.a.r.d if he ever crosses my path!” Ian said savagely.

”Who d'you mean?”

”Peters!”

”Peters?” Jake said, gaping. ”Your secretary? The one you sacked for mixin' up all your letters?”

”I should have strangled him! This is the note I meant for d.i.c.kinson Verley. He sent it to Cameron instead.”

In furious disgust Ian raked his hand through his hair. As much as he wanted Elizabeth Cameron out of his sight and out of his life, he could not cause two women to spend the night in their carriage or whatever vehicle they'd brought, when it was his fault they'd come here. He nodded curtly to Jake. ”Go and get them.”

”Me? Why me?”

”Because,” Ian said bitterly, walking over to the cabinet and putting away the gun, ”it's starting to rain, for one thing. For another, if you don't bring them back, you'll be doing the cooking.”

”If I have to go after that woman, I want a stout gla.s.s of something fortifying first. They're carrying a trunk, so they won't get much ahead of me.” .

”On foot?” Ian asked in surprise.

”How did you think they got up here?” ”I was too angry to think.”

At the end of the lane Elizabeth put down her side of the trunk and sank down wearily beside Lucinda upon its hard top, emotionally exhausted. A wayward chuckle bubbled up inside her, brought on by exhaustion, fright, defeat. and the last remnants of triumph over having gotten just a little of her own back from the man who'd ruined her life. The only possible explanation for Ian Thornton's behavior today was that he was a complete madman.

With a shake of her head Elizabeth made herself stop thinking of him. At the moment she had so many new worries she hardly knew how to begin to cope. She glanced sideways at her stalwart duenna, and an amused smile touched her lips as she recalled Lucinda's actions at the cottage. On the one hand, Lucinda rejected all emotional displays as totally unseemly-yet at the same time she herself was possessed of the most formidable temper Elizabeth had ever witnessed. It was as if Lucinda did not regard her own outbursts of ire as emotional. Without the slightest hesitation or regret Lucinda could verbally flay a wrongdoer into small, bite-sized pieces and then mentally stamp him into the ground and grind him beneath the heel of her st.u.r.dy shoe.

On the other hand, were Elizabeth to exhibit the smallest bit of fear right now over their daunting predicament, Lucinda would instantly stiffen up with disapproval and deliver one of her sharp reprimands.

Cognizant of that, Elizabeth glanced worriedly at the sky, where black clouds were rolling in, heralding a storm; but when she spoke she sounded deliberately and absurdly bland. ”I believe it's starting to rain, Lucinda,” she remarked while cold drizzle began to slap the leaves of the tree over their heads. ”So it would seem,” said Lucinda. She opened an umbrella with a smart snap, holding it over them both. ”It's fortunate you have your umbrella.”

”I always have my umbrella.” ”We aren't likely to drown from a little rain.” ”I shouldn't think so.” Elizabeth drew a steadying breath, looking around at the harsh Scottish cliffs. In the tone of one asking someone's opinion on a rhetorical question, Elizabeth said, ”Do you suppose there are wolves out here?”

”I believe,” Lucinda replied, ”they probably const.i.tute a larger threat to our health at present than the rain.”

The sun was setting, and the early spring air had a sharp bite in it; Elizabeth was almost positive they'd be freezing by nightfall. ”It's a bit chilly.”

”I daresay we won't be too uncomfortable, in that case.” Elizabeth's wayward sense of humor chose that unlikely moment to a.s.sert itself. ”No, we shall be snug as can be while the wolves gather around us.”

”Quite.” Hysteria, hunger, and exhaustion-combined with Lucinda's unswerving calm and her earlier unprecedented entry into the cottage with umbrella flailing-were making Elizabeth almost giddy. ”Of course, if the wolves realize how hungry we are, there's every chance they'll give us a wide berth.”

”A cheering possibility.” ”We'll build a fire,” Elizabeth said, her lips twitching. ”That will keep them at bay, I believe.” When Lucinda remained silent for several moments, occupied with her own thoughts, Elizabeth confided with an odd surge of happiness, ”Do you know something, Lucinda? I don't think I would have missed today for anything.”

Lucinda's thin gray brows shot up, and she cast a dubious sideways glance at Elizabeth.

”I realize that must sound extremely peculiar, but can you imagine how absolutely exhilarating it was to have that man at the point of a gun for just a few minutes? Do you find that-odd?” Elizabeth asked when Lucinda stared straight ahead in angry, thoughtful silence.

”What I find odd,” she said in a tone of frosty disapproval mingled with surprise, ”is that you evoke such animosity in that man.”

”I think he's quite demented.”