Part 10 (1/2)

Tranter's clasp tightened, preventing her from sidling away. ”I hope you're more than grateful before I've finished, my darling.”

The endearment struck a false note. Before tonight he'd only ever addressed her formally. Now he claimed the right to use her Christian name and call her his darling.

”My lord-” she started in a repressive tone.

He dropped on one knee. ”Marianne, I have loved you from the first. Your beauty and goodness have stolen my heart. Please do me the honor of saying you'll be my wife. No woman will adorn the t.i.tle of Countess Tranter more magnificently.”

This time, she managed to s.n.a.t.c.h free. She'd known he pursued her. He'd made his interest blatant. But after last night, his words seemed like blasphemy. The oiliness in his manner contrasted unpleasantly with Elias's unconcealed emotion when he'd touched her.

She didn't trust Tranter. She never had.

”My lord, much as I appreciate your interest, I'm afraid my answer is no.”

She didn't know what reaction she expected to her refusal. Anger? Hurt? Disbelief? The too handsome face conveyed the same confidence.

”My lord, did you hear me?” she asked when he didn't speak. ”I cannot be your wife.”

”Of course you can,” he said with an arrogance that staggered her. ”Your father may favor Desborough, but your wishes must count.”

She frowned down at him, burying her shaking hands in her filmy yellow skirts. ”I don't wish to marry you.”

A frown expressed puzzlement rather than pique. ”There's no need to play games, sweetheart. My t.i.tle is old and respected, even if one ignores my personal attractions. I'm quite the catch.”

She stifled the hysterical laughter that rose in her throat, knowing that Tranter wouldn't react kindly to mockery. She straightened. It was time to bring this awkward scene to an end. ”Nonetheless, I must decline your offer. We will not suit.”

This time she saw that he believed she meant it. Smoothly he rose. ”I'm sure we will.”

He stepped closer and suddenly Marianne was conscious that she and Tranter were alone in an isolated corner of a huge house. If she called for help, the noise of the storm would cover her cries.

Ridiculous to be afraid, she told herself, even as she backed into the palm tree. Lord Tranter was a civilized man. They'd danced together a hundred times. He belonged to a n.o.ble family and he knew everyone she did. He wouldn't a.s.sault a woman of his own cla.s.s.

”My lord, you're frightening me,” she whispered, raising a trembling hand to the pearl necklace at her throat.

He took her hand in a determined grip. ”No need to be nervous, my dear.”

Every endearment made her skin crawl. His blue eyes were clear and guileless, as they'd always been. But with each second, some instinct within Marianne screamed a louder warning.

”Then let me go.” She fought to keep her voice steady.

”Oh, no, my bird. Not until you agree to be my wife.”

”You're not acting the gentleman,” she said, trying and failing to break away. The palm fronds scratched her bare arms, but she hardly noticed the sting.

”Needs must,” he said, and went on before she could question the odd remark. ”Will you marry me, Marianne?”

She glared at him, anger swamping fear, although she was vilely afraid. ”No.”

His smile was regretful. ”That's a d.a.m.ned pity. I'd hoped to manage this without trouble.”

”Manage what?” she asked sharply.

”Why, our engagement, of course. After all, you seemed happy enough for me to play the eager suitor in London.”

”I didn't give you any reason to think you had my special favor.”

That regretful smile persisted. And he didn't raise his voice. Yet she was convinced she was in danger. She edged free of the palm tree until there was s.p.a.ce behind her. But while he held her, escape was impossible.

”My mistake,” he said unemotionally.

”Stop this nonsense.” Her heart skittered against her ribs and she s.h.i.+vered, despite the room's heat.

”I'm afraid I can't.” His eyes rested innocently on her face. ”You see, I've run out of time.”

”I don't understand.”

”I know you don't. I've kept my ruin a secret for months, but my luck is running out.”

”Your ruin?” she echoed and the fear that she'd been battling so hard to play down coalesced into a huge gelid lump in her stomach. She hardly needed to hear his explanation.

”Sadly, the family fortune couldn't support me as I wished and I need a nice rich heiress to rescue me from my embarra.s.sments.”

”There...there are other women who want to marry you. Everyone envied the attention you paid me.” She felt trapped in a nightmare. To think, she'd accused Elias of wanting her fortune, when all the time, the real snake in her garden had been Tranter.

”It's too late to find another chit to court. I left London minutes ahead of the bailiffs. I'm afraid it's you or exile.”

”Choose exile,” she said through stiff lips. ”I'll never make you happy.”

”Oh, once we're shackled, you can go your own way. I won't care what you do as long as I've got my hands on all your lovely money.”

”You can go to the devil, sir,” she snapped.

He laughed derisively. ”I intend to, my love. And you'll pay for the trip.”

She felt as cold in this humid greenhouse as if she stood outside in the storm. ”I won't marry you.”

His smile had never wavered through his appalling confession. Now it widened and the choirboy turned intimidatingly wolfish. ”Yes, you will. By the time I've finished, you'll be begging for me to restore your reputation.”

Perhaps it was mad to defy him, but her spirit revolted at what he planned. She straightened and regarded him with all the loathing in her soul. ”I'll never marry a cur like you.”

He clicked his tongue in disapproval. He'd be less alarming if he betrayed some emotion beyond self-a.s.surance. ”No need to be rude. This is your last chance, Marianne. The maid who delivered my message to you has instructions to create a scene. Any moment now, she'll bring your father, the Hillbrooks and Desborough, and anyone else expressing an interest, to this charming bower. We either greet them as a happy couple or your seduction becomes a public scandal.”

The unspeakable wretch. ”You're wasting your time, Lord Tranter,” she said icily. ”I won't marry you whatever you do.”