Scandalous Weddings

Chapter One

BENCHLEY HOUSE, HAMPSHIRE, ENGLAND MAY 1824

Jinx Benchley spoke before her housekeeper could. "Whoever it is, say that I am indisposed." "But Miss Jinx, he said-"

"I don't care what he said. I cannot possibly see him, or anyone else, this morning."

Although Jinx's voice was firm, her hand shook-as did the single sheet of parchment she grasped. She didn't look at Mrs. Honeywell when she spoke to her, a behavior considered perfectly acceptable among the gentry when dealing with the help. But Jinx had always considered it inexcusably rude to treat anyone so carelessly, be they royalty or humble farmer. Today, however, she could hardly think straight, let alone behave as normal. Disaster had struck, and she did not know how to undo it.

She stared at the letter her younger brother had left on her desk. What had he been thinking?

She pushed away from her desk and the myriad papers so haphazardly stacked upon it, and stared up at the portrait of her parents. How would they handle this situation, if they were still living? It was clear she must do something, but what? Perhaps she should send for the

solicitor in Fiddle Crossing. "Send one of the stable lads to me," she told Mrs. Honeywell. "I need someone to deliver a message right away."

"Yes, miss. But about the gentleman in the parlor. I don't think you can ignore him, you see-"

"A gentleman should know better than to call this early in the morning."

"But we've always been early risers here-"

"He can leave his card. Just… just tell him whatever you must!" she exclaimed with an agitated wave of her hand.

"Is everything all right, Miss Jinx?" the housekeeper asked, a frown increasing the lines on her brow. "You're not acting at all yourself."

Jinx heaved a great sigh, then slowly turned to face Mrs. Honeywell. The stout little housekeeper had been with the Benchleys for over twenty years. She'd proven her loyalty through the fat years and lean, through good times and bad. In truth, there was no reason not to tell her what Colin had done. Perhaps she might have some idea where to begin.

Jinx held the crumpled letter out to her. "Colin has done something so stupid, so outrageous, that it defies the extremes of every Benchley eccentricity to date. And as you well know, that's saying quite a lot."

Mrs. Honeywell took the letter and, squinting to see, pored over the words. "He's in love. What's so terrible about that for a lad of three and twenty? Oh." She grimaced. "He's run off to Gretna Green. Still and all, though you mayn't have wanted that for him, Jinx girl, I wouldn't call that the most outrageous thing a Bench-ley's ever done. Have you forgotten that your grandfather married his second wife on board a ship bound for India? And your father-"

"No, I haven't forgotten," Jinx interrupted. "But finish the letter. Finish it. See whom he's run off with? This Lady Alice. Oh!" She grasped her head with both hands. "How could he?"

Mrs. Honeywell frowned. "I don't believe I know a Lady Alice."

Jinx began to pace. "Of course you don't know her. I don't know her either and it's because her family is not the sort to stoop so low as to hobnob with families such as ours."

"The Benchleys are a fine family, gentlemen and ladies all, and as good as anybody," the housekeeper stated. "Besides, your uncle's a viscount and your father was a great scholar."

"Thank you, Mrs. Honeywell. Your loyalty is commendable. Unfortunately, Lady Alice's brother is not likely to be impressed with any young gentleman whose uncle is a mere viscount. He'll never countenance an untitled and penniless gentleman farmer for a brother-in-law. Here. Look." She rustled around on her desk, toppling a stack of articles about water rights in her agitation. When she found the two-month-old edition of the Sunday Times, she stabbed a finger at an item on the front page. "She's practically the most eligible young lady who came out last year. Why would she choose to run off with our Colin?"

But Jinx knew the answer to that. So did Mrs. Honeywell. "Because he's the most charming lad in the world," the older woman said, beaming with so much pride you'd think the rapscallion was her own flesh and blood. "Handsome, good-hearted, and with the most winning ways. Any sensible girl would want our Colin for a husband."

Jinx rolled her eyes and threw the outdated paper down. "Well, it won't do her a bit of good to marry him. For when her brother learns of this, he'll kill Colin. Mark my words, he will kill him."

"Now, Miss Jinx. Don't carry on so. It'll turn out all right. You know, you might take a lesson from your

brother and reconsider that offer Mr. Tonkton made for you-"

"I am not interested in marrying Herbert Tonkton and that is not the point. The situation with Colin and this Lady Alice will not turn out all right. Her brother is not the type to let it turn out all right. You forget, I had two seasons in town, and while I never met him, I saw him several times. He was the one who fought three duels and was banished from court for as many years."

That got the housekeepers attention. "The one who fought the three duels? Oh, my. I do remember. Oh, my!" she repeated. "That's why his name sounded so familiar." She pressed a knotted handkerchief to her lips. "Oh, my. Whatever are we to do, miss?"

Jinx plopped down onto the only clear space on a settee stacked with books opened to various pages. "I don't know. That's why I thought I might consult with our solicitor. He may have some idea of how to proceed."

"Oh, but there isn't time for that!"

"You may be right. Perhaps I should start after Colin right away." She jumped to her feet again. "I could take the curricle. It's old, but it's fast."

"No, no, miss. You don't understand. There's no time for that!"

"Well, what else am I to do?" Jinx exclaimed, exasperated by the fix Colin had put them in. "He's certainly not going to come back on his own."

For some reason, Mrs. Honeywell was pointing at the door, and her eyes were round as saucers. "Your gentleman caller."

"I told you, I don't have time for visitors today. I should think that perfectly obvious by now."

"But it's him."

"Him? Him who?" Then a terrible thought occurred to Jinx. A frightening thought, so awful she dared not believe it possible. "Him who?" she asked again, though this time in a whisper.

Mrs. Honeywell thrust a card at her. Jinx took it with trepidation. An exquisite example of the stationer's art. A simple, elegantly printed script. Harrison Stirling, Marquis of Hartley.

"Bees knees!" Jinx exclaimed, then sat down hard. Harrison Stirling. The murderous marquis, he was called, and hot-blooded Harry. The man was already searching for his sister-and for Colin. And he was in her front parlor! Everything she'd ever heard about the man flashed through her head. A terrible temper. A vengeful nature. He had money and power enough to buy his way back into Prinny's favor, it seemed. Six years ago he'd been considered quite the catch, though most of the young ladies had been in awe of him. Still, money and a title were a heady lure. Added to that, he was also devastatingly handsome. He'd never lacked for female companionship. But so far as she knew, he hadn't yet married. If he was that particular for himself, how much more so must he be for his only sister?

Jinx swallowed hard and tried to curb her runaway emotions. She must think! If Colin were to survive this dreadful incident, Lord Hartley must be put off the trail. The fact that he knew enough to come to Benchley House was not a good sign, but Jinx could not let that deter her.

She pushed to her feet and nervously smoothed her old kersey skirt. She must send Lord Hartley off in the wrong direction, then immediately go after Colin herself.

And once she found her charming fool of a brother and had him safe, she would wring his handsome neck- that is, unless Lord Hartley beat her to the task.

Heads would roll, Harrison vowed as he waited impatiently at the parlor window. If his information was right and Colin Benchley had run off with his sister… His hands tightened into fists. There would be hell to pay.

By rights he should have been exhausted. He'd spent the entire night grilling anyone who might have some inkling of Alice's whereabouts. Her maid had kept mum, weeping incessantly as he alternately cajoled her, then threatened her. That had been the first clue: Alice had sworn the misguided maid to secrecy. But the girl's father had proven more forthcoming. Three gold sovereigns in the man's hand, and he'd convinced the daughter swiftly enough to talk.

Still, all he'd gotten was a name. Colin Benchley. A few more inquiries at his various clubs, and he'd learned that the cad was one of the Hampshire Benchleys. The eccentric ones, not the titled ones.

He'd have strangled the man, had he been anywhere to be found in town. But Benchley was not in London, and at four in the morning Harrison had set off for Hampshire, his valet in close pursuit. A shepherd boy had directed him to Benchley House; a milkmaid in the courtyard had informed him that Master Colin was not presently in residence, but that Miss Jinx was.

Miss Jinx. What.sort of name was that? he fumed. And where in hell was she?

The door creaked and he turned, and for a moment- just one, very brief moment-he forgot what had brought him racing through the night to such an out-of-the-way place. For that one fraction of a second, he just stood there, transfixed by the woman who glided into the room.

She was not what he'd expected.

Not that she didn't live up to her odd name. But he'd expected someone older, someone frivolous and flustered because a marquis had come to call. By contrast, Jinx Benchley was young and slender, and possessed of the most outrageous mane of auburn hair he'd ever laid eyes on. She was dressed all in lavender, with splashes of yellow and green. A gypsyish scarf was draped over her shoulders. A bright ribbon fought to hold back the masses of her long, thick curls.

He caught the fragrance of her perfume, a blend of flowers and exotic spices. And with every step she made, tiny bells tinkled.

Then she spoke, and he blinked and came back to reality.

"I hope you've come to advise me where my brother is," she stated in a calm, well-modulated voice, tinged with irritation.

Harrison frowned at the woman's abrupt remark. No introduction. He gave her a curt bow. "I regret to impose upon you so early in the day, but you plainly know my mission. I am Harrison Stirling, Marquis of Hartley."

"Yes, yes. And I am Jillian Benchley, sister of Colin. Dp you bring me word of him?"

"I was advised to speak with a Miss Jinx Benchley."

She waved one hand. The bells trilled again. Where did she wear them? "I am Jinx. 'Tis a pet name given me by my father. But tell me, what word have you of Colin?"

Jinx waited breathlessly for the marquis's response. It had taken but one glance for her to know he deserved every bit of his reputation. Tall, well built, and furious. His eyes were black with suppressed rage. His hands flexed and tightened into fists, as if he imagined them wrapped around Colin's throat.

Poor Colin, she fretted, worrying her lower lip. What had he been thinking to antagonize a man like the Marquis of Hartley? But it was too late to regret Colin's folly. Now she must somehow work to ameliorate it.

She willed herself to be calm. She must do whatever necessary to divert the man, and that meant preventing Lord Hartley from setting off for Gretna Green in pursuit of the wayward couple.

She crossed the room toward him, beating back the absurd impression that she was entering a lion's den. This was her house, not his. No harm could befall her at Benchley House. "I should like to find them as soon as possible and bury any word of this unfortunate incident before it gets out," she said breezily. "As, I'm certain, do you."

He crossed his arms, presenting a truly threatening image. "I'd like to bury something, all right."

"There's no cause for such talk as that," she snapped at him. "We are dealing with two foolish young people who, no doubt, think they are in love."

"In love with her money," he scoffed.

Jinx smiled, a deliberately smug, superior smile. "You do not know my brother very well if you think that. Money does not count with him."

"Really? Then he's the only young man in England to feel that way."

She meant to control her temper. Truly she did. But rudeness toward her darling Colin, and in her own home, was too much for anyone to bear. She tilted her chin up. "Pray tell, is that why you remain unwed? You've not yet found a woman rich enough to please you?"

His eyes narrowed and for a moment Jinx thought he might loose his famous temper upon her. But what could he do, she thought, bolstering her courage. Strike her? He would not dare. Threaten to ruin her family? The Benchleys were so far removed from the Hartleys' rank in society that she was surprised he'd managed even to find Benchley House.

That left only insults and verbal sparring, and in that venue Jinx trusted herself to hold her own.

To his credit, he did not resort to any of those. Still, the frost in his voice was enough to chill her to the bone. "It is not my motives which are in question, Miss Bench-ley, but your brother's. Do you perchance know where he is?"

"No." Not specifically.

"But you knew that he was gone and that I had reason to be searching for him. Did he inform you of his plans to run away with my sister?"

With a great show of frustration, Jinx turned and walked to the window. In truth, however, she needed desperately to break the hold of Lord Hartley's intense gaze. She feared he would see through any small fib she made, and even though her motives were pure-to save her brother's foolish skin-she did not want to lie to this man. After all, his motives were also commendable: to save his sister from a marriage few guardians would approve. She could not find fault with him for that.

Perhaps she should take a different tack. She turned to face him again. "I learned of this unfortunate situation just minutes prior to your arrival." She sighed. "My first thought was to go after him and stop him, but then you appeared. Tell me, what do you plan to do when you find them?"

When his jaw began rhythmically to clench and release-clench and release-she went on. "I know your reputation, Lord Hartley. Even here in the hinterlands we've heard tales of the murderous marquis. You will understand, therefore, my extreme interest in your answer. What do you intend to do?"

Their eyes locked. Jinx fancied she saw the workings of his mind. He weighed her value to his search against his need to vow his vengeance. She saw clearly the moment he dismissed her impact on his plans.

"I intend to challenge him to a duel," he stated calmly. Coldly. "I intend to do my level best to rid me and my sister of him forever."

Fury banished.every other emotion Jinx felt. She drew herself up, jerking her shawl closer around her shoulders. "I'll thank you to get out of my house. This very minute," she ordered.

"Not until I see the letter he left you. The one you apparently discovered this morning."

"I didn't say he left a letter. For all you know, he told me himself."

In a moment he was across the room, mere inches from her. He was so much taller, so much more threatening up close. She would have stepped back, but he caught her by the shoulders. "Is he here? Is Alice here?"

"How dare you lay hands upon me, sir! Release me at once!"

"The truth, Miss Benchley. Where are they? What do you know about this affair?"

"Enough to know I will not cooperate with the likes of you! Enough to understand why your poor sister would flee your protection for Colin's!"

He let go of her with an oath. "Alice is not fleeing me, though you may console yourself with thinking so. She no doubt fancies herself in love-an honest error for an innocent such as she. But I've learned enough about your brother to know he is not so innocent. You Benchleys have a reputation for being outlandish. Eccentrics. You do not fit in with the rest of proper society."

Jinx rubbed her hands over the places he'd held her. Though he'd not hurt her, the press of his fingers yet left their mark. "If we are eccentric, it is only because the rules of your society are so stifling as to kill any hope of creativity and happiness. Your rules are for small minds, and we Benchleys do not have small minds. Go on," she ordered. "Leave here. Chase after your sister. She has obviously made a love match with my brother and I have no doubt that she and Colin are supremely happy together, else they would not have risked your anger. But what have they to fear?" she added bitingly. " 'Tis clear Alice is possessed of a much broader intelligence than her narrow-minded brother. I should think she and Colin will have no trouble at all outwitting you. Good day, sir. I have nothing further to say to you."

Chapter Two

Jinx watched from the parlor window as Harrison Stirling stalked across the gravel front court, toward the stables. A little shiver snaked through her, and she rubbed her arms distractedly. The Marquis of Hartley would make a dire enemy. Did Colin have any inkling of the danger he'd put himself in?

Bits and pieces of old gossip filtered up from her memory. Lord Hartley had been quite as terrible a rake as society had ever seen. Drinking. Gambling. Whoring. Not to mention the dueling. And he had the gall to think Colin unsuitable! Then again, she'd heard reformed rakes made the strictest fathers-or guardians, in this case.

Except that Harrison Stirling hardly appeared to be reformed. The man was all temper and muscle and ruthless determination. Up close she'd been too involved in their confrontation to notice details of his appearance. But from the safety of her parlor window she could now be more detached.

In truth, Lord Hartley cut a most impressive figure- not unusual for a rake of the sporting set. The long, muscular legs of a horseman. The broad shoulders of a fencer. The powerful arms of a boxing enthusiast.

Colin did those things, too, she reminded herself. But

Harrison Stirling was half a head taller than her brother, and fairly two stone heavier, she'd wager.

If Lord Hartley caught up with him, Colin was a dead duck.

But only if Hartley caught up with him.

Her eyes narrowed, following the arrogant marquis until he disappeared beyond her prized topiary clipped in the shape of dragons. He would assume Colin and Alice had set off for Gretna Green as, according to fifer brother's letter, they had. But there were two main routes headed north, and any number of lesser routes. Colin would not wish to be caught. So which route would he take?

She bit her lip and fiddled with the lace curtain, still staring at the leafy dragons that formed an arch with their tails. She should have asked Lord Hartley where Lady Alice had disappeared from, London or a country estate. Colin had last been at home on Friday. Then he'd departed for town to meet their cousin Alfred-or so he'd said. He'd known she meant to spend a long weekend in Caulfield with her friend Virginia, who'd recently had her third child. That's why the wretch had left the note on her desk. He'd counted on her not finding it until Tuesday morning. It was pure chance she'd cut her visit a little short. Still, he had three days' head start on her.

"Lizard legs," she swore. She was wasting time. She needed to get under way, but only after Harrison Stirling was well away from Benchley House.

But he didn't leave and didn't leave, and when Jinx could bear to wait no longer, she stormed out to the stables. She found him in the carriage house, with the stable workers lined up, thoroughly cowed by his relentless questioning.

"… so no carriage is missing?"

The three stablemen nodded their heads in unison. Jinx wanted to scream. She would have asked them the very same thing, had she been provided time enough to think of it. But if Lord Hartley thought he could instigate a private inquisition on her property, he was very much mistaken.

"Darren. Clifton. Rob. You are all dismissed. Go about your work," she ordered in crisp tones. Grateful, they bobbed their heads and practically sprinted from the shaded carriage house. Then she turned on Lord Hartley and his man. She crossed her arms and gave him her severest look. "I believe I asked you to leave."

He raised one dark brow in a maddening display of arrogance. "So you did. And in so doing, you no doubt think to delay my search. But I caution you, Miss Benchley. Do not think a relationship to the Hartley name will benefit either you or your brother."

"Hah! I'm hardly so delusional as to believe that. Though you may find this difficult to comprehend, not everyone finds a connection to the upper nobility an asset. If the truth be told, I cannot imagine a less welcome notion. You as my brother-in-law." She forced a visible shudder.

Unfortunately, the insult she implied just ricocheted off his superior attitude. "So you say. But the two carriages you keep appear older than you." He gestured around them. "There's a hole in the roof, judging by that spot of sunshine next to your foot. And the entire' premises, both house and outbuildings, are in need of a fresh coat of paint. You do not keep a butler. 'Tis obvious your finances are not entirely in order. Added to that, the Benchley penchant for investing in ridiculous inventions is well-known." He crossed his arms across his chest, mirroring her pose. "Did I leave anything out?"

Jinx trembled with outrage. How dare he reduce her family to the status of lowly money grubbers! She advanced on him, fists knotted and eyes blazing. "How like an aristocrat to focus purely on the physical-and the monetary. You have indeed left something out, something which defines the Benchleys much more clearly than our financial condition. We have a long history of making love matches. We Benchleys always marry for love."

"For love?" he snorted. "Perhaps. But love of what?"

Though it was clear she would have no influence on his poor opinion of either her brother or her family, Jinx's dander was up. She could not ignore his sarcasm. "I'll confess, I too find it hard to imagine Colin falling in love with your sister. Given what I know of you and your horrid reputation, I find myself hard-pressed to believe anything good of your sister. Had Colin asked my opinion, I would have advised him to avoid any connection with the Hartley line. But he did not ask my opinion, and so I can only assume that he sees something in her worth loving. Despite all the liabilities attached to her name, she must possess some redeeming grace for them to have made a love match. At least I dearly hope so."

The words had tumbled out in a violent rush, a sarcastic sermon that left her breathless. But as she came up for air, she realized he was staring at her with a strange glitter in his eyes-and that she'd advanced far too near him.

"Were you a man," he said, "I'd call you out for insulting my family in such a manner."

Jinx swallowed hard. "Were I a man, I would already have called you out," she vowed. "If you will recall, you insulted my family first"

"But you're not a man, are you?" he observed in a voice that no longer sounded angry. It was no longer loud, either. In fact, there was a disturbingly husky quality to it which, when coupled with his intent gaze, seemed more seductive than anything else.

And she could feel herself responding to it.

Oh, help! a little voice cried from somewhere inside

her. While she trusted herself to match wits with the man, she'd not considered that he might try to seduce her. Stupid, stupid girl. He was not considered a rake for nothing!

She took a hasty step backward. "I think you should leave, Lord Hartley. Colin is not here and I cannot help you."

"Cannot? Or will not?" His eyes ran over her in a slow perusal that shot the most inappropriate prickles of awareness through her. He was trying to disarm her with his famous charm. And she'd almost let him.

But not anymore.

She wrapped her arms around her waist and when his eyes locked once more with hers, she deliberately let her eyes go crossed. It was an old childhood ploy, one she'd often used to distract Colin. Now, though, she used it to distract herself. If she could not see Lord Hartley's handsome face and slumberous gaze, they could not affect her.

"What are you doing?"

Jinx started at his sudden question, again stepping backward. But her crossed eyes made her awkward. She lost her balance and might even have fallen had not Lord Hartley caught her. By the time her eyes were straight, he had her laid down on the dusty stable floor.

"Are you all right?" He knelt over her, his face but inches from hers. "Can you hear me?" He patted her cheek rather sharply. "Miss Benchley, can you hear me?"

"I can hear you!" She batted his hand away.

He looked immeasurably relieved. "It appears you may have fainted."

"I did not faint." She struggled up on her elbows. "I never faint. Would you please move?"

"Are you subject to fits, then? Your eyes went crossed.",

"I know they did," she fumed, feeling like an idiot.

"I see. Do they do that often?"

She glared at him. "It depends on whether or not I want them to." She crossed her eyes for emphasis, then uncrossed them.

His brow furrowed as he stared at her, and all at once Jinx became acutely conscious of their odd position. She lay on the carriage-house floor with a stranger kneeling over her-a famous town rake, no less. Pray God none of the servants were near enough to see. Of course, it might be better if someone were nearby, for Harrison Stirling was again studying her with that disturbingly intent gaze of his.

Then his eyes crossed and she couldn't help it. She burst out laughing.

He started laughing, too, and for a moment, at least, the two of them were in accord. But when he helped her upright, their humor could not last. The dire circumstances of their meeting precluded it. Slowly their laughter faded, and she took a careful step back from him.

"We are agreed that a marriage between Colin and Alice is unwise," she said, sober now. "Can we not also agree on how to deal with their reckless behavior?"

His jaw became stern. "I cannot allow them to wed, and I will do whatever I can to prevent it."

"And if you are too late to prevent it?"

Their gazes locked, and the most ludicrous thought leapt into Jinx's head: if only they'd met under different circumstances. Then reason prevailed and she buried that insane notion. This was Lord Hartley, notorious rake, deadly duelist. Holding her breath, she repeated her question. "What if you are too late?"

After a long, tense moment he replied. "I won't be."

She heard the threat in his voice and chose to read the worst into his words. What else could she do? "I think it's time you left."

He made no move to comply. "They went to Gretna Green, I take it."

"I imagine so. Good day, Lord Hartley." She turned to depart but he caught her by the arm.

"It would be better if you cooperate with me, Miss Benchley. It would be in everyone's best interest if I found them before he has the chance to completely ruin her."

"By society's standards-your society-she is ruined already."

"I have the wherewithal to remedy that."

"Oh, yes. Your famous riches. All that money that you have and we Benchleys do not." She gave him a tight smile. "I have no information that can help you. He did not take one of our carriages, but that signifies nothing. Perhaps your innocent little sister provided the equipage."

"She did not."

"Then they rented a hack. Or could they have chosen to travel by horseback?" she added, hoping to gain some snippet of information from him.

He frowned and thought for a moment. "I do not think Alice so adept a rider as to attempt such a long journey by horseback."

But she was, Jinx thought. On horseback she could make much faster time than could a hired hack. But first she must rid herself of Harrison Stirling.

"However they travel, you but waste your time speaking with me, Lord Hartley."

"Perhaps so. Then again, perhaps not. I caution you, Miss Benchley, not to aid the runaways. You may delude yourself into believing it possible to marry purely for love, but the rest of English society is far more practical."

"Indeed. Since you are so practical, then, you must realize that you do but waste your time lingering here. Get on with you, Lord Hartley. Rescue your sister before a man who loves her can make her his wife. Then hurry back to London before all the wealthy heiresses are sto-

len out from under your nose. Be practical," she taunted him. "Time is wasting."

Harrison bided his time, but not easily. The quicktempered Miss Jinx Benchley was right. Time was wasting. He needed to be practical, he needed to be on his way. And yet something made him linger.

He'd ridden out of the gravel courtyard fronting the Benchleys' very odd manor home with its myriad turrets and steep roof walk. He made his way furiously beyond reach of the towering yew dragons, past the half-sized Dutch windmill, and the miniaturely proportioned replica of the classic Greek Pantheon. But once beyond the strange house and the collection of outlandish follies that dotted the otherwise serene landscape, he doubled back through the hunting park, his jaw grimly set, his frown securely in place. Now he waited, along with Rogers, his valet, to see what Miss High-and-Mighty Benchley was up to.

Though he did not like to admit it-and would do so only to himself-the feisty Miss Benchley had scored a direct hit with her pronouncements regarding the state of society matrimonies. He doubted her claim that everyone in her family had made love matches. Still, it raised the question of whether it was possible these days for anyone to marry for that nebulous reason.

He stared beyond his sheltered bower and across the damp meadows, just rousing to the bright sunlight burning through the morning fog. But he did not see the sheep that dotted the lush green landscape, nor the meandering stone walls that marked fields in use for a thousand years and more. Instead he pictured his sister, Alice, and their last conversation.

She'd been very upset, almost to the point of tears. But she hadn't cried, even when he'd browbeaten her about Arlen Forrester, Lord Meever. That had been eight days ago. He'd gone blithely on to Winchester afterward, sure in his conceit that she would come around to his way of thinking. After all, Lord Meever was not too old-her objection to Lord Barton. He was not a sot-her objection to Lord Tinsdale. Nor was he a womanizer-her objection to Lord Lamkin. Barton, Tinsdale, and Lamkin had each been well connected, with solid family names and deep pockets. But Harrison recognized now that none of them had truly been right for his sweet younger sister.

Arlen Forrester, however, had no such flaws.

Alice had called the man dull as dirt, and perhaps he was. But that was hardly a fatal flaw, and indeed, he might make a better husband for it. He was a conscientious fellow who took his responsibilities seriously.

Yet the thought of marrying Forrester had sent Alice straight into the arms of a penniless opportunist who'd promptly dragged her off to Gretna Green.

No doubt she believed herself in love with the man, and for that Harrison was prepared to forgive her. Benchley, however, would receive no such leniency. For Colin Benchley had taken advantage of a green girl, and Harrison meant to punish him dearly for his audacity.

Unfortunately, Harrison could not escape some portion of the blame himself. He'd left Alice alone too much. Then when he'd decided she was ready for marriage, he'd tried to rush her into it.

He, of all people, should have known that the selection of a mate could not be rushed. It had been three years since he'd decided to select a wife and produce the heir he knew his position demanded. Three years, three seasons, and not one eligible miss he'd go so far as to actually commit a lifetime to. Whether silly or serious, titled or merely wealthy, not one of the many young women he'd danced and flirted with had moved him to propose marriage.

Not that he was waiting for love to strike, as Jinx Benchley obviously was. She was already old enough to be considered on the shelf. Before long she'd be a confirmed spinster. And all in the name of love.

But that was not his problem. He was not waiting for love.

The fact remained, however, that he'd not found the right woman for himself. So why had he presumed he could find the right man for Alice? That didn't mean he could allow Alice to choose her own husband without some guidance from him. This disaster with Benchley was proof that she was not capable of it. Still, Harrison knew he'd been a lackluster guardian to his much younger sister. He'd not sufficiently considered her feelings regarding marriage. He would have to do better in the future.

He waited silently in the woodland bower. Above him a pair of mating squirrels tore around the trunk of a towering oak, chasing one another in a dizzying upward spiral. His sleek mount stamped one foot and nickered softly to Rogers's placid mare. Love was in the air. Then he grimaced at such an idiotic notion. Not love, but lust.

He frowned and shifted uneasily in the saddle. Squirrels. Horses. Young men. Did Alice feel lust for this Benchley? Was that what she found missing in Lord Meever?

Harrison didn't like to think of his sister that way, nor of any innocent young woman of good breeding.

You thought of Miss Jinx Benchley that way, a silent voice accused.

His fist tightened on the reins. The horse tossed its head, restless from the wait. Maybe for a moment or two he'd thought of Miss Benchley that way. But then, why shouldn't he? She was not, after all, your typical gentleman's daughter. Her wild red hair, her eccentric wardrobe. The intriguing fragrance that clung to her.

Those bells that tinkled when she moved.

Any right-thinking man could be forgiven for harboring less-than-wholesome thoughts about such a vibrant creature. Even her temper had sparked his interest, for she was no shy, mumbling child, intimidated by either his anger or his physical presence.

And her voice, confident and yet musical-

"Look, milord," Rogers called, interrupting Harrison's inappropriate musings. "Someone's leaving the manor grounds."

Cursing himself for a fool, Harrison leaned forward, focusing at once on the distant rider. At first he was disappointed. It was a man, for he rode astride. Then his eyes narrowed. The rider's hat nearly fell off and a long knot of hair unfurled down his back. Her back, Harrison realized when the sunlight struck sparks off the rich red mass. Jinx Benchley, riding astride in some sort of combination of breeches and skirt. He could hardly believe it! She thundered down the road, trailed by another rider. One of the stable men, he would guess.

So, she was off to find her brother herself-no doubt to warn the wretch that someone was hot on his trail. Harrison had been right to wait, and now he meant to follow her straight to the runaway pair.

But as he turned his horse and picked his way along the edge of the woods, following the direction Miss Jinx Benchley took, he resolved to put aside the baser feelings the woman had roused in him.

Yes, she was attractive, but it was in an exotic sort of way. Yes, she was quick-witted, but she was also a sharp-tongued shrew, far too argumentative for his taste. And though she sat a horse admirably, almost as if she'd been born astride, that was not a talent a proper young lady need possess.

But for all her oddities, she was still a gentlewoman. She was young and well bred, despite her odd manner, outspoken ways, and outrageous behavior. Besides that, she was Colin Benchley's sister, and the last woman he should get involved with. He meant to follow her, that was all, and to use her to find Alice.

He leaned forward, urging his horse forward. The chase was on and, like a hound sharp on the heels of a wily red-haired vixen, he meant to pursue his quarry until he had her trapped-and with her, her brother and his foolish sister.

Chapter Three

Colin Benchley made his way down to the stables, ostensibly to check on the horses. But in truth, he needed time alone to debate his next move.

The first night he and Alice had stayed at an inn outside of Oxford. Alice had slept in the bed; he'd shifted fitfully all night on a chair that had long lost its padding. The second night they'd rested at an out-of-the-way abbey, passing themselves off as brother and sister. If the good brothers had suspected the truth, they'd kept it to themselves. He'd slept but little on the lumpy pallet given him in the men's quarters.

Two miserable nights. Two pitiful accommodations. His exquisite Alice deserved so much better. That's why they'd stopped earlier this evening, at a prosperous-looking coaching inn near Ballycoat. He'd taken a suite of rooms more in keeping with what Alice deserved.

And yet, wasn't he deluding himself? He could never provide for her as she deserved. And though he loved Benchley Manor and it was his home, he knew it did not begin to compare even to the least of Alice's brother's holdings.

He had no right to deprive her of her family wealth. How could he ever have been so selfish as to think he did?

He looked in on his team of weary horses, then gave the stable boy tuppence for extra rations. But instead of returning to Alice, he hesitated in the musty stable.

He wanted her so badly, he ached. But he'd vowed not to dishonor her by taking her innocence outside the bounds of matrimony. She was so beautiful, though. He wasn't sure he could bear another night sharing a room with her and yet not sharing a bed.

God, but he was so confused! He loved her and he wanted to marry her and take care of her and spend all the days of his life with her. But he was going about it all wrong. He could see that now. Despite her objections, he should have gone to her brother. It was the right thing to do, and it was still not too late to do it.

Resolved, he turned and strode back toward the inn. They would start back in the morning. He would have to make her understand that no matter how her brother might react, they must return and ask his approval.

She did not answer when he knocked. He knocked harder; still no reply. Alarmed, Colin turned the latch and peered inside. What he saw set his heart racing and blood rushing to his loins. For Alice stood in the window, backlit by a stupendous sunset which made her lounging gown all but disappear.

He saw a tiny waist and sweetly rounded hips outlined beneath the diaphanous fabric. He saw long, shapely legs. His honorable intentions turned to mush in the face of her innocently silhouetted femininity. The words he meant to say evaporated in the heat of the moment. Then she spoke, an angel who was more tempting than even the devil, and he was finally and irrevocably lost.

"Colin, I cannot wait any longer. I cannot bear to delay until we travel all the way to Scotland, my love. Please, Colin, make me your wife tonight. Now. Please…"

Jinx sat at the crossroads, staring first down the road to Logan Fields, then down the one that led to Martinton. Her horse blew and stamped, and she patted its neck. "Not much farther today, Daffodil," she murmured to the tiring mare. "You'll have your dinner and your rub-down soon enough. But where?" she added to herself.

She heard Rob approach on his slower horse. "Miss Jinx, this ain't right, an' well you know it. You can't be ridin' across the countryside this way. Why, if himself was here he'd be-"

"If my father were still alive, he'd be doing exactly as I am," she vowed. She fixed a fierce look upon the aging servant. "I am grateful for your loyalty, Rob, but I will not have you lecturing me all the way to Scotland."

"There you go again with Scotland. We can't go gal-livantin' all the way to Scotland. Don't you know them Scots is a bunch of madmen, wear in' skirts, screamin' like banshees?"

"Mama was half Scots," Jinx reminded the squat stable master.

He frowned, for he'd dearly loved Jinx's mother. " 'Tis only the men as is mad," he grumbled.

"Be that as it may, I'm going there. Colin must be prevented from marrying this girl."

"Ah, but miss, what if we get there too late to stop him?"

She stared down the two roads again, one wide and well traveled, the other a rough choice for a carriage. She could not be too late. But if she was… "If we're too late to prevent Colin making such an unwise marriage, then we'll probably be just in time to prevent him being murdered by his new wife's brother."

On that grim note she turned onto the wider road. Colin would not want his true love jounced about in the carriage. He would want to provide for the easiest journey possible, wouldn't he?

"Bee's knees," she muttered, then urged Daffodil on.

"We make for Logan Fields," she called back to Rob. "Turn back if you like, or follow along. But do not annoy me with advice I refuse to heed, else you will find yourself picking berries for your supper and bedding down in the fields with the hares and field mice.",

Not that she would follow through with her threat; not that Rob believed a word of it. But it was a measure of her determination to save her love-struck brother from a disastrous match-and a fatal confrontation with Lord Hartley-that she would even vow such a thing.

As the sun lowered over the pastoral lands of northern Oxfordshire, Jinx made for Logan Fields with Rob following along behind her. She was hungry and thirsty and her bottom ached from long hours in the saddle. She'd made very good time, but all she wanted now was a hot bath and to never wear these chafing breeches again.

Unfortunately, tomorrow promised only more of the same, and the next day as well. It would take all her energy to reach Gretna Green before Colin did.

She fumed angrily as she rode. The list of grievances against her brother mounted steadily. When she finally found the wretch, he would have much to account for.

She only prayed he lived long enough to do it.

Harrison stood before her door. The hall was dim. The hour was late. Miss Benchley's servant had bedded down in one of the crowded attic rooms. She had taken a moderately priced single room on the third story. As for himself, he'd taken finer accommodations on the second story, but he'd not been able to sleep. A coin here and there, and he'd discovered all he need know: she'd taken supper in her room; she'd paid extra for a bath. She did not know he trailed her and, on the whole, he was satisfied with this day's work. But he was restless. A bottle of red wine had not deadened his mind. Rather than start a second bottle-and pay dearly for it with a headache on the morrow-he'd stalked up the stairs and stood glaring at her door.

He ought to pound the door until it rattled on its hinges. He ought to startle her awake and make her tell him where the runaway pair were, for he was certain she knew more than she'd revealed. The fact that she'd undertaken this insane journey proved that.

He raised his fist to the door, then with a shuddering sigh, spread his fingers and instead pressed his palm flat against the wooden barrier. He was behaving like a madman. Too much wine, too little sleep, and more frustration than he was accustomed to. These Benchleys were even more outrageous than the gossips made them out to be. Brother and sister alike, they were impulsive, shortsighted, and selfish.

He slid his hand back and forth, the width of the wood panel, and his thoughts grew even more churlish. It was his damnably poor luck that Jinx was so unexpectedly attractive. Not that she was the sort that usually drew him. He preferred cool, elegant blondes, with an occasional vibrant brunette thrown in for variation. Redheads, particularly eccentric ones, had never been to his taste.

Unfortunately, he found this particular redhead precisely to his taste. She was smart and loyal and not easily intimidated, a combination not often found in a woman, especially in a young, beautiful one. Added to that, she triggered the most primitive reaction in him. He'd had the entire day to ponder that fact, and now.just the thought of her made him hot. Standing outside her room, knowing she lay unclothed in her bed, sent a river of fire coursing to his loins.

"Bloody hell!" he muttered, yanking his hand back from the door. He was behaving like a fool, and all on account of her. If her brother possessed even half the allure of his sister, it was no wonder innocent Alice had run off with the man.

But his goal was to follow Jinx Benchley, not seduce her-or be seduced by her.

Knotting his hands, he thrust his fists into his pockets and turned away. He needed more wine, and damn the consequences!

The morning was dreadful. Jinx got an early start. She'd not slept well. Though she had never displayed the same predisposition for visions or predictions that her mother had, all night she'd been bothered by a series of confusing dreams. Colin and a faceless bride. A baby in her own arms. Lord Hartley laughing in a joyful manner. He'd looked so much younger laughing. But what had he been laughing about? And whose baby had she held, Colin and Alice's, or her own?

So she'd risen gladly from her restless bed and before the sun had appeared above the Chiltern Hills she'd been on her way, with Rob trailing unhappily behind her. There had been one bit of good news, however. The stableman on duty remembered Colin and Alice. A tall auburn-haired young gentleman and a china-doll beautiful young lady.

She'd picked the right road. That was something, at least.

But then the rains had come, turning the road to slop, and it had become hard to remain optimistic. She was wet and hungry when they made Bicester, but she did not linger any longer than necessary to eat, and to refresh the horses. Just beyond the village the drizzle eased. But within an hour another mishap: Rob's mare came up lame.

"The ostler said Banbury was a four-hour ride in good conditions. It makes more sense for you to return to Bicester," Jinx told Rob.

"And what of you, miss? Surely you cannot plan to go on with this chuckle-headed scheme. Not alone."

"I most certainly can. Here." She dug into her hastily

packed portmanteau, tied behind her saddle. "Here's coin enough to take care of both you and Dolly. If you just follow the same path south, you should find your way home once her leg is better."

" 'Tis not meself I'm worried about!" the man cried. "You cannot mean to ride on alone, and all the way to the Scots land."

The truth was, Jinx did not want to go on alone. The farther north they rode, the less sure of herself she became. But she refused to reveal as much to Rob. The fact was, she had no choice. If she could not prevent Colin from acting on his foolish scheme, at least she could stand beside him when he faced the dangerous Harrison Stirling.

She peeled a still-damp lock of hair from her neck and thrust it behind her shoulder. "It's pointless to argue with me, Rob, for you know I will do precisely as I please. Soon enough I will find Colin, and then I will be perfectly safe."

Harrison watched the tableau being played out in the curve of the road below him, and though he could not hear them, he could imagine full well the drift of the conversation. The stableman's horse was limping, and the poor fellow thought a practical argument would sway his mistress into turning back. Hah! After only two conversations with the woman, Harrison knew better. Miss Benchley meant to press on alone, leaving the worried servant to tend the lame horse. Foolish girl! Had she any idea the myriad disasters that might befall a woman traveling alone?

Except that she would not be alone, for he was right behind her. He grinned and glanced over at his unhappy valet. "Take heart, Rogers. From this point on I'll not require your company. Provide Miss Benchley's servant with whatever assistance he requires. Meanwhile, I will go on alone and tend to Miss Benchley's needs myself."

It was nowhere near sunset. Jinx tilted her head up, gauging the bruised-looking sky. It was only the low-hanging clouds that gave the impression of impending night. They were heavy with rain, threatening at any moment to douse her once more.

How much farther to Banbury?

This part of Oxfordshire was not nearly so well populated as the southern portion. She'd passed near a tiny village some miles past, and had spied a pleasant farmhouse down one hill. If worse came to worst, she could seek shelter in some respectable-looking rural household.

Then again, what respectable household would welcome a woman traveling alone?

For the hundredth time she regretted her hasty decision to send Rob back to Bicester. If the weather would only cooperate, her journey would not be so difficult. But the rain had made the roads treacherous as well as dampened her enthusiasm for her task.

She tugged her scarf over her head. At least she was not totally soaked. Yet.

The road turned and she urged Daffodil up the incline. The game little mare was as tired as she, but she responded with renewed effort. They had nearly surmounted the hill when the animal lost its footing in a patch of slick gravel. Daffodil nearly went down, and if she had, it might have been disastrous. But the horse managed to stay upright. It was Jinx who could not keep her balance.

She grabbed wildly for the saddle horn, but it was useless. With a shriek of frustration and a whoosh of skirts, she landed hard in the middle of the sodden road. Added to that ignominy, the clouds chose at that very moment to spill their unhappy bounty.

It was as if the storm mocked her, she fumed, lying flat on her back, trying to catch her breath. First the clouds tittered, then they chuckled. Finally they guffawed, buckets and buckets of drowning laughter raining down upon her.

Jinx turned her face aside and covered her eyes with one drenched arm. Nothing was broken. She'd scraped one palm and her bottom would surely be bruised. But other than that she was unharmed. Yet she continued to lie there, pelted by the storm, wallowing in a trough of self-pity. How had she come to such a pathetic pass as this?

A streak of brilliant light and a violent crack of thunder startled her out of her misery. Daffodil snorted and shied, and before Jinx could grab for the reins, the mare was off, tail raised like a flag as she skittered over the crest of the hill and vanished from sight.

"No. No!" Jinx scrambled for footing, trying to give chase. But her soaked skirts were too heavy, even without petticoats. She slipped and stumbled again, cursing the horse, the weather, and most of all, her idiotic, love-struck brother.

She didn't hear the rider until he was almost upon her, and when she whirled about, she lost her footing again. Down she went, this time in a thicket of heath. At least it cushioned her fall, but her most comfortable riding suit would never be the same. "Bee's knees," she swore, wiping rain from her brow. Then sheltering her eyes from the driving rain, she looked up from her humiliating position-and nearly swooned!

Harrison Stirling! What was he doing here? And why must he come along now, when she looked like a fool, a pathetic, bedraggled fool? She let out an audible groan.

He dismounted, then bent over her. "Are you all right?"

Though his face showed the appropriate amount of concern, Jinx was not impressed. He wore a wide-brimmed hat and an oil-cloth cape, and though he was somewhat damp, he was not drenched, nor humiliated, as was she.

He crouched beside her and touched her shoulder. "Are you hurt? Can you stand? Here, let me help you."

Gritting her teeth, she brushed his hand aside. "If you will fetch my horse, I can manage the rest on my own."

By the time he returned with Daffodil, Jinx was upright once more. But barely. The rain had ceased its initial rush and had found a pace more to its liking. Had she been at home, she would have stood in a window enjoying the pleasant drumming against the glass. She would have listened for the gurgle of roof water angled with gutters and fanciful spouts into a veritable fountain, a project of her grandfather Benchley.

But here, on this sodden hill, in who-knew-where Oxfordshire, she took no pleasure at all from the rain. She was cold and drenched to the bone. She could hardly move, her clothes weighed her down so. Added to that, she was exhausted and mortified-and the day was not yet done!

If he laughed at her, or tried to browbeat her, or so much as raised one of his arrogant brows askance…

To his credit, he did none of those. "Are you able to ride?" he asked.

"Yes." But she could not quite haul her sodden self up into the saddle. "I can manage," she insisted, when he dismounted to help her. A second try and a third, however, yielded no different results. But still, she refused to beg his assistance.

Then she heard a muffled oath. Something about women and insanity, and she whirled to take umbrage with him. Unfortunately he was already upon her, reaching for her waist to hoist her into the saddle, she presumed. But once he clasped his hands on her waist, he didn't lift her at all. Instead, for an endless, breathless moment, they stood stock-still, facing one another much too close. Much too close.

The rain pelted them, cold and chuckling once more. His hands were warm on her waist. Warmer than made any sense. She felt the distinct outline of his wide palm and strong fingers. He stared down at her and she up at him, and suddenly everything changed. It was no longer about Colin and Alice. It was about him and her. He was impossibly handsome. Ridiculously tall. A man, not a boy. And he was going to kiss her.

Had she been logical she would have turned away, even though she was a Benchley and Benchleys were not above kissing in the rain. She believed in love among the unlikeliest of people. Her scholarly father had loved a butcher's widow. Her grandfather had wed a Gypsy.

But a marquis?

No Benchley of her lineage had ever been so unwise as to fall for a man that far above her in station.

But she was falling, like one of Newton's apples, hard and fast and unable to stop. He was arrogant and determined, but he could also be gentle and considerate. He was vengeful, but that was merely an extension of his loyalty to his family, wasn't it? She gazed up at him, blinking against the rain, mesmerized by the look in his dark eyes. Then he bent nearer her. Their lips almost touched-

And rain from the brim of his hat dumped into her face, very nearly drowning her!

"Oh!" she sputtered, coughing and wiping her face. She heard him curse-an exceedingly foul string of words he should not say in front of a lady-and she felt like echoing him. Then his grasp tightened and in a trifling she found herself mounted on Daffodil and staring down into his grim features.

"We'll find shelter somewhere ahead. Then you and I will have a heart-to-heart talk, Miss Benchley."

"About why you are following me?" she snapped back, determined that he never have the last word in an argument with her.

"About why you lied to me," he growled.

He mounted his horse and started forward, still heading north, she noticed. Well, that was something. But if he thought she would help him find Colin so that he could challenge him to a duel, he was more than wrong. He was completely mad.

"I didn't lie to you!" she shouted, urging Daffodil forward. Benchleys did not lie. They were too honorable to do that. "I never lie!" she vowed.

But commit murder? She glared at his unyielding back, so straight and arrogant-and dry beneath his cape. At least one Benchley she knew was tempted to commit murder. Sorely tempted.

Chapter Four

They sought shelter at a farmhouse, a substantial, though somewhat shabby, establishment. Jinx waited alongside the pigsty while Harrison approached the main house.

She didn't want to stay anywhere with him, yet the long hour's ride she'd just endured had taken its toll. Pride was all very good, but practicality sometimes took precedence. Like now. She wanted a bath, a meal, and a bed, in that order. Her only satisfaction was in knowing that Lord Hartley was not happy to be taking such mean lodgings for the night.

But the farmer's wife was certainly happy, Jinx surmised when the woman began to bow and curtsy, attempting both actions at the same time.

"We're to have the best rooms in the house," Harrison said when he returned.

"How much did you pay her for the privilege of putting her out of her own home?" Jinx asked, annoyed with him despite her eagerness to gain access to those very rooms.

"A sovereign, and I rather doubt she considers it a hardship," he retorted.

"Of course she doesn't. The sovereign you so carelessly toss about is worth a month's labor to folk such as she."

"I'm well aware of that, Miss Benchley. I'm also cognizant of the fact that she would have been grateful to receive one shilling."

Jinx glared at him. She wanted to stay angry with him but it.was hard, for to be honest, a sovereign was a very generous sum, and she well knew it. Still, she was not about to heap praise on him for it. "If you'll excuse me?" She urged Daffodil past him, toward the open stable.

But he caught the mare's bridle. "Not so fast, Miss Benchley. Her son will take the horses. You and I are overdue for a chat." Then without so much as a by-your-leave, he hauled her down from the saddle.

"I'll thank you to keep your hands off my person!" She jerked back from him, tilting her chin up to a fighting angle.

A boy edged up, curious but cautious. "Rub them down well and give them each an extra portion of bran," Harrison told the lad. "And bring the bags up to our rooms."

"I'm quite capable of carrying my own bag now." Jinx unfastened the portmanteau and started for the farmhouse. "If you wish to speak with me," she called over her shoulder to Harrison, "it will simply have to wait until I get out of these wet clothes."

"Gladly," Harrison murmured, watching her march like a bedraggled queen across the sloppy yard. Her skirts dragged, a pitiful muddy blue train. Her wet hair clung like a bronze curtain to her slender back. She was stubborn and haughty-and he'd give far more than merely a sovereign to see her out of her wet clothes.

The very thought of the creamy skin that lay beneath her muddy blue riding suit heated him like roofing pitch brought to a boil. She disappeared into the farmhouse, with their hostess fluttering about her as if she were visiting royalty.

What was it about Jinx Benchley that drew people as disparate as a farmer's wife and a marquis? He could not deny that the troublesome redhead had confounded him from the first moment he'd laid eyes on her. She had an air of self-possession that befitted a well-heeled matron, though she was neither well-heeled, nor a matron. She could not be above five-and-twenty, and he knew the Benchleys had limited funds and only a mediocre estate. Neither was her confidence dependent upon her appearance-which was a far cry from the accepted norms of beauty-nor on her position in society;-which was negligible.

That was not to say that she wasn't a proper lady, for she was a gentleman's daughter. But she was an odd bird, and from an odd family. He frowned in frustration and concentrated on the facts. And the fact was, aside from her unwarranted ego, Miss Benchley possessed no particular presence, save that attributable to any attractive female. Redheads were said to have volatile tempers-and volatile passions. He knew she possessed the former. But did she possess the latter?

"Bloody hell," he muttered as desire struck him with embarrassing results. Angry at his reaction to the troublesome wench, he grabbed his leather valise and strode purposefully across the drenched yard to the house. Chickens scattered out of his path.

Jinx Benchley's sexual appeal was not the point, he told himself. The woman obviously thought she could protect her brother from the consequences of his actions. Otherwise she would not be galloping north to find him. While he admired her loyalty and found her adventurous nature intriguing, that changed nothing. She knew where her brother was. He was sure of it. He had only to be patient, to beat her at her own game.

How difficult could that be?

Removing her ruined traveling suit was a lesson in frustration. The wet wool clung to the soaked linen beneath it, which clung to her shivering skin below that. She removed her grandmother's anklet with its tiny Gypsy bells. Her stockings peeled reluctantly from her legs, like a second layer of ice-cold skin, leaving her flesh prickling from the chill. Jinx wrapped up in a blanket as she awaited hot water and a tub, and only then did she examine her surroundings. The room she'd been given was spacious, albeit with a low, sloping ceiling. The rain leaked in over the window; a pot caught the drips with wet, rhythmic plunks.

This was not the owner's bedchamber, she decided. No doubt the high-and-mighty Lord Hartley claimed that. Holding the blanket secure with one hand, she pushed her clothes into one sodden heap. She needed a bucket for them, otherwise they would leave water marks on the old wooden floor.

The housewife came and, aided by a dairymaid, dragged in a huge tub. At the sight of it Jinx finally found something to smile about. It was almost as large as the porcelain tub her mother had installed in a special upstairs bathing chamber at home.

"Water's heating, miss," the woman said. "I'll have it ' up directly," she added, bobbing and bowing. It took six hot buckets and six cold to fill the tub. The woman even had a block of hard soap, and once Jinx slid into the steaming stew, she let out a groan of utter contentment. If only she could sleep here, immersed in warmth, cocooned from the cold and bitter realities of the world outside this tub. No Harrison Stirling hounding her. No runaway brother foolishly enamored of a woman he should not want.

She closed her eyes and began to lather her hair. When this was over and she returned home, she wanted to investigate the possibility of an upstairs stove with a large

water tank that could empty directly into the bathing tub. The water could be supplied to the heating tank from the roof gutters, she speculated. And perhaps she should consider a special drain to carry the used bathwater directly outdoors. That way Mrs. Honeywell would be saved the task of heating and fetching and carrying away. And that way Jinx could bathe as often as she liked-daily would be absolutely wonderful-and feel no guilt for the burdens it placed on their limited household staff.

She'd sunk down to her chin, and only her knees showed, pink and warm, above the faintly soapy surface. Her mind filled with details of plumbing and a system for hoisting firewood up to the second floor, when a firm knock disrupted her reverie. She sat up with a correspondent slosh of water. "Who is it?"

"Harrison. May I come in?"

"No!" She sank down again, down until her chin and ears were halfway beneath the water. "No," she squeaked. "I'm almost finished here and I'll be downstairs directly-"

The door opened, she shrieked, and then it closed with an ominous thud. For a moment, all was absolutely silent. But though Jinx's back was to the door, she knew he was inside the room. He was inside the room, and she was naked, and she had no idea what to do about it.

She did know, however, that to react passively would only encourage him to bully her further. Though it took more courage than she thought she possessed, she forced herself to sit up, just enough so that her head was completely out of the water. Then she shifted to one side, fixed him with her most lethal glare, and said with a completely false calm, "Get out of this room. Now."

"Not until you and I have had a little talk."

"If you wish to speak to me, you will gain no satisfaction by behaving like a ruffian. I refuse to speak to you under such unseemly circumstances."

The unconscionable wretch only deflected her glare with a smug grin and advanced farther into the room. He dragged a straight-backed chair into the middle of the floor, then, straddling it backward, faced her across a mere three feet of distance.

It was such an arrogant male gesture, she wanted to throw the soap at him. And yet that same arrogance, the very maleness of his behavior, sent a shiver of both fear and awareness through her. She sank deeper into the water, crossing her arms over her chest and cursing herself for a full-fledged fool. Toad eggs! What was she to do now?

"I do not negotiate with ruffians," she muttered, averting her gaze.

"You have no choice but to negotiate with me, Jinx."

"From one presumption to the next you leap! I am Miss Benchley to you."

He chuckled. "I have difficulty with such formalities when I'm in a lady's bedchamber, especially when she's-"

"No woman who welcomes the likes of you into her bedchamber could possibly be termed a lady."

"Some are. Some aren't." He grinned. "Which are you?"

The water had begun to cool. Now, however, it felt warm again. Hot. Positively steaming. He was enjoying himself entirely too much!

Jinx weighed her options. She could hold this conversation with him while sitting in the bathtub. She could refuse to speak to him at all, so long as she was sitting in the bathtub.

Or… She could get out of the bathtub.

He expected her to refuse, to speak with him, and then eventually, to give in, and it galled her to let him best her that way.

So she considered the alternative. Did she dare exit the tub, allowing him to see her naked, even if only for a moment or two? She was not an excessively modest person, and yet…

Ego won out over modesty. She sank completely under the water, rinsing the last of the soap from her hair-and gathering her courage. Then, not giving herself time to reconsider, she surged to her feet, stepped out of the tub, and snatched up the towel lying across the bed. She was covered in a moment, at least her torso was. Her arms and legs remained bare, but she could deal with that, she told herself. Finally, she steeled herself and turned to face him.

"Now, what was it you wished so urgently to discuss?"

Harrison closed his gaping mouth with a snap. Had she just done what he thought she'd done? Jinx Benchley sat on the bed. She was wrapped in a generous length of toweling, and as he watched, she reached up and began to apply another towel to her dripping mane of copper-colored hair.

She was the picture of composure, a lady at her bath. But the image of her smooth pink skin, a narrow waist, and dimpled derriere, were burned into his brain.

He'd bullied her, but she'd turned the tables and bullied him right back. Quite a feat. But he was not calm enough yet to fully admire her ability to outbluff him. He was too overwhelmed by the desire to unwrap the towels that hid her luscious body. He wanted to see the rest of her, the breasts he'd not really glimpsed, the softly rounded belly. The feminine vee between her legs.

"Lord Hartley?"

Harrison blinked, only belatedly coming back to awareness. As he watched, she stood and, still wrapped in the towels, slipped her arms into her wrapper. Then turning her back to him, she did a little jiggle, and from beneath her wrapper, the towel fell to her feet. She tied the wrapper in place, then finally turned back to face him, completely covered, neck to wrist to toes. But she was still naked beneath that one layer of cloth.

She planted her fists on her hips. "Now what was it that was so important I must waste a perfectly good tub of water?"

Indeed, what had been so important? He couldn't remember.

Maybe he'd only hoped to catch her at her bath and see some portion of her unclothed. But never in the wildest of his fantasies had he expected her to be so bold as to rise gloriously naked from her bath, like some Venus on her shell of a bathtub.

Perhaps she was not the innocent maiden he'd assumed her to be.

His eyes narrowed. "I confess, you have taken me quite by surprise, Miss Benchley. Unfortunately, I was so stunned I did not entirely appreciate your little display. Would you consider repeating it?"

A faint blush rose in her cheeks. So, she was not so blase in her behavior as she pretended. He found an immense satisfaction in that knowledge. He went on. "You see, Miss Benchley, all I truly wanted was to discuss the matter of our wayward siblings. But if you have another sort of… discussion in mind, I'd be more than happy to join you on the bed."

She popped up from that bed like a fox who'd just stumbled into the hound. For all her bravado, Harrison was reassured that she was still an innocent. She had a boldness to her, and courage of a sort seldom seen in a woman. But that smooth pale skin had not yet known the touch of a man. He would swear on it.

"I do not wish to talk to you at all," she vowed. " Tis you who have forced your unwelcome presence on me. Your implication is exceedingly coarse and completely unappreciated. Pray, sir, say your piece, then leave."

Harrison thought of himself as a practical man. Despite his reputation to the contrary, he took matters of family and money deadly serious. That's why he needed a wife. That's why he wanted Alice to wed a well-connected man.

But the three duels he'd fought-and won-had stained his reputation forever, even though they'd all been unavoidable. The men had challenged him. Each one of the fools had been jilted by spiteful women who'd then goaded their former lovers to fight their current lover: himself. The women had done it for the pride of knowing men had shed blood for them. The men had done it because male pride would not allow them to back down. Foolish men fighting to regain frivolous women. And he'd been the most foolish of all.

Still, he'd never ruined an innocent woman. He'd never even contemplated doing so-at least not since he'd reached his majority. But this woman-this beautiful, headstrong redheaded woman whom he'd known but two days-she was driving him to distraction!

He wanted her. It was that simple and that complicated. And now he was afraid to stand up, for the proof of his desire would be painfully apparent. He'd often had this problem when he was twenty. But he was thirty now, a jaded thirty, at that. No untried virgin should affect him so.

But this one did. Perhaps it would be best if he just said his piece and left.

He cleared his throat. " 'Tis apparent from your curious behavior that you seek to alert your brother to my pursuit. But it will do you no good, Miss Benchley. He cannot evade me forever."

"I'm certain he does not expect to."

"Then what do you hope to achieve with this mad dash you've made to find him before I can?"

"To save his hide from the murderous marquis!" she exclaimed. Her eyes flashed with anger, a clear aqua-green anger. Her breasts heaved with emotion beneath the flimsy linen wrapper. She was magnificent, he thought. She'd been magnificent in every incarnation: her early-morning attire; her bedraggled riding outfit; and now, wet and unadorned, fresh from her bath. How would she look draped in teal silk or cloth of gold, with diamonds sparkling in her hair or a web of gold and pearls draped around her throat? How he would like to find out.

"Well?" she demanded. "Have you no reply to that? Do you admit you mean to murder my brother, simply because he is so unwise as to love your sister?"

Harrison was not a man particularly given to impulsive behavior, no matter what other people thought. But when Jinx stared at him so belligerently, making accusations uncomfortably close to the truth, he reacted impulsively. The chair crashed down when he rose to his feet. Before she could do more than gasp with alarm, he pulled her into his arms.

"What-What are you doing?"

"You're a smart woman, Miss Benchley. Jinx. Figure it out." Then he silenced the protests rising from those pouty lips, from that petulant mouth. He kissed her and realized only then how much he'd wanted to do just that. From his first sight of her, all during the hard riding of the past two days, and culminating in her daring removal from the tub, he'd wanted to kiss her. He wanted to do even more, but kissing was a good start.

So he kissed her as if he and he alone had the right to do so. His lips captured hers in a carnal quest, and after a moment she began to kiss -him back. As if he'd thrown down a gauntlet, she rose to the challenge he set.

She was not sure of herself, but she learned very quickly. Her protests died unsaid and softened into little sighs of acquiescence. She was damp and lithe, a soft, strong armful, and when he pressed her fully to him, she arched nearer, intensifying their embrace. Her arms circled his neck, her lips parted to grant him entrance, and he feared he would embarrass himself then and there.

His hands roamed freely down her back, circling her waist, learning the curve of her derrière. She gasped against his mouth, and he groaned. "Feels good, doesn't it?" '

"Yes," she breathed. "Better than ever I would have guessed."

Harrison deepened the kiss, for he was heady with desire, and drunk with the passion her honest words roused in him. He devoured her mouth, sliding his tongue in and out, trying to rouse her as she roused him. He knew he was going too fast, and he didn't want to frighten her off. But he couldn't stop. His hands explored her sweet body while his mouth demanded she submit.

When she mimicked his caresses with caresses of her own, he nearly came undone. She was sweet and honest, and long overdue for her first sexual encounter-

Her first sexual encounter.

Was he insane?

With a groan he broke their kiss. With a curse he broke their embrace and thrust her away from him. But he did not let her go. He just stood there, holding her shoulders in a stiff-armed stance, his breathing harsh and ragged.

"What are you trying to do?" He glared at her, appalled at what had just occurred between them. What had almost occurred between them. "What in bloody hell are you trying to do?"

For a second she looked stunned. Her mouth gaped open. Her lips-her sweet, rosy, kissable lips-actually trembled. Then the moment passed, her jaw snapped shut, and the passionate sheen in her eyes turned to venom.

"What am J trying to do? Me?" She jerked free of his hold and backed as far away from him as she could.

"The better question is what are you trying to do? First you intrude on my privacy. You interrupt my bath. Then you proceed to kiss me-" She broke off. But though her face colored in a heated blush, her fury did not abate. "You do all that, then you have the gall to accuse me of trying to do something to you\"

She was right on every count. She knew it and so did Harrison. And yet he could not explain the idiocy of his behavior with any amount of logic. So he chose to blame her.

"If you think to lure me into some sort of compromising position and thereby gain a better bargaining position for yourself, it will not work."

"Are you accusing me of trying to gain a husband by such nefarious means? Is that what you are trying to imply?"

"No. That's not what I meant!" Harrison thrust his hands angrily through his hair. It was either that or grab her and silence her in the one way he now knew worked. Except that kissing her again would not be a good idea. "I didn't mean that you wanted to put me in a compromising position then force me into marriage. Not exactly," he added less forcefully.

"Then what exactly did you mean?" she demanded, glaring at him, her fists once more knotted on her hips.

Damn, but he was handling this badly! He didn't want to make it worse now by insulting her, or hurting her any more than he already had. But he didn't trust himself to keep his hands off her, no matter how stupid an idea it was.

Then again, if.he angered her sufficiently, she would be the one to avoid him.

He didn't like*the idea, yet given the messy circumstances of their acquaintance, it seemed to be the best option open to him.

So he answered her question though he no longer believed his own words. "When it comes to protecting your idiot brother, you have already shown yourself to be bolder and more daring than any woman I've ever met. It can be no wonder, then, that I assume you would be willing to buy your brother's safety with the use of your body."

She slapped him.

He deserved it. But though he wanted to apologize to her, he did not. This attraction between them must be killed. It had begun too abruptly. It would have to end in the same manner. So he stepped back from her and gave an abbreviated bow. "I'll leave you now."

When he reached the door, however, she called out. "I'm not turning back, Lord Hartley. You can't scare me off so easily as 3JI that."

He did not think he had. But Harrison kept his own counsel. He did not look back at her or respond in any way. He left and sought his own room where he and a bottle of whisky proceeded to spend a long, restless night together.

How was he to get rid of the difficult Jinx Benchley? He'd kissed her, a stupid move, given who she was and the circumstances of their relationship. He'd seen her naked and run his hands over her delectable body, compounding his stupidity tenfold. Still, he'd not totally compromised her. Somehow he'd managed not to do anything he could not undo.

He stared up at the ceiling, disgusted with himself. He wanted her even though he knew she was not the sort of woman a man could seduce with impunity. But logic fell short when it came to his reaction to Jinx. Though he should put her out of his mind, he could not. He wanted her still.

He heaved a great sigh and lifted the whisky glass once more to his lips. The only solution was to get rid of the difficult and delicious Miss Benchley before he gave in and did something that he could not undo.

Chapter Five

She should have slept the sleep of the dead; she'd been that exhausted. But Jinx was too upset to sleep. Too agitated and bewildered and furious.

By midnight she was seething. How dare he burst into her private chamber?

By two A.M. she was ready to commit murder. How dare he kiss her, then turn around and accuse her of trying to distract him!

By four o'clock, she was sick with shame. How could she have risen, wet and naked from the tub, with him right there? How could she have kissed him so passionately? And why should he not question the purposes of any woman who behaved so?

When the downstairs clock chimed half past four, she decided she must do something, else she would tear her hair out in utter frustration. So she dressed in her wrinkled, barely dried riding costume, pulled on dry hose and wet boots, then wound her hair into a serviceable knot and tied on her hat. She would not subject herself to Harrison Stirling's distracting presence one moment longer. Nor him to hers. She would go on alone. According to their hostess, Scotland was another two-day ride-assuming the weather cooperated. With the slower carriage, Colin could not be too much ahead of her.

The hove Match

Perhaps she might even catch up with him today.

She paused at the door. Lord Hartley would be furious and he would be after her with the same vengeance he felt for Colin. He was not a man accustomed to being thwarted. But that only intensified her resolve. He deserved to be thwarted. He deserved to have his sister wed someone he refused to approve.

Jinx's brow creased in a frown. In a way it was ironic, for in theory, her goals and Lord Hartley's were the same: prevent the union in marriage of their respective siblings. But her primary reason for wanting to prevent it was to avoid Lord Hartley's revenge upon Colin. If his nature were not so vengeful, she would not be so opposed to Colin marrying his sister.

But why should she help the arrogant Lord Hartley achieve his aim? Why should she seek to prevent Colin and Alice marrying? They were adult enough to make their own decisions, and if they were in love, who was she to gainsay them? Rather than join with Lord Hartley in thwarting them, it behooved her to rush to their aid- and thereby thwart Lord Hartley.

Her hand tightened on the ceramic doorknob. She would find the wayward pair before he could, she vowed. And if necessary, she would hire Bow Street runners to protect them. And she would laugh in Harrison Stirling's face and bring his sister home to Benchley Manor and all its charming follies.

Feeling much better than she had in hours, Jinx shoved the door open-and promptly sent a tower of pots clattering onto the floor.

"Lizard legs!" she swore as one of the metal vessels careened down the hall. So much for making a silent getaway.

When the last lid stilled its wobbling spin, she heard the creak of a door and the thud of footfalls on the bare wood floor. But Jinx did not want to hear the triumph in Lord Hartley's voice, or see the gloating look in his eyes. She slammed her door, then leaned back against it, breathing hard. Blast the man for foiling her escape. And blast him for being the most difficult, frustrating, stubborn oaf she'd ever had the misfortune to meet!

"Good try." His voice came through the door, and she jumped like a startled cat. "Good try, but you can't escape me that easily," he continued.

If it weren't that his voice was so unnervingly husky, Jinx would have snapped some sharp retort at him. She would! The trouble was, his voice was unnervingly husky. It was dark and warm and as luscious as velvet pouring over her naked skin.

"Bee's knees," she breathed, afraid for her own sanity. She lurched away from the door, one hand at her throat, the other holding on to her valise with a death grip. This was insane. Insane! She could not be having such an improbable reaction to this man. Such a primitive and visceral reaction.

But she was. There was no denying it. And that, more than anything else, kept her somber and silent in her room the long remainder of the night.

The farmer's wife came at dawn with a tray. Jinx ate because she knew she must. The stable lad brought the horses around to the front door, but still she sat in the room. Only when Lord Hartley knocked at her door did she rouse. "Go along without me. I'm not accompanying you any further."

He came straightaway into the room, as she should have known he would. "Are you ill?" he demanded to know.

"Yes. Ill," she responded, refusing to look at him. She was afraid to.

At once he pressed his hand to her brow. Jinx leapt back, a difficult feat, considering she was sitting on the bed. She glared at him. "Who taught you manners? This is not your room, nor am I your concern. Go." She waved her hand. "Go on about your fool's errand. As for me, I am returning home."

"To Hampshire? To Benchley Manor?" he asked, fixing her with a suspicious gaze.

She nodded. Now that she was looking at him, it seemed she could not look away. He was so tall, and so beautiful, she conceded, in a harsh, masculine sort of way. Why must he be the one man to move her?

By rights he should be the very last man to attract her. Other than his manly appearance, he had nothing to commend him. He was too arrogant, too high-handed, and too rich, and she had no inkling whether he possessed either intellect or common sense, both of which she admired in a person.

But he is a loyal brother, the small voice of reason reminded her. Rightly or wrongly, he took his sister's welfare most seriously.

Too seriously, she decided when he crossed his arms and stared down at her. "I am not fool enough to leave you here alone, Jinx, neither for my sake nor your own."

"Don't call me that. And I hardly believe you have any concern for my welfare."

"I am not leaving you here and that is final. For one thing, you cannot travel all the way back to Hampshire unescorted. Not that I trust you to go home. By the same token, I cannot let you travel on to Gretna Green alone, either."

"I told you. I've changed my mind. I'm not going on to Gretna Green."

"Yes you are." So saying, he caught her wrist in one hand and pulled her to her feet.

"Stop that! Who do you think you are?" she sputtered. "No-"

But Lord Hartley was stronger than she and bent on ignoring her. He snatched up her portmanteau and, deaf to her complaints, hauled her out of the room, down the narrow stairs, and out to the waiting horses. He rudely put her on Daffodil and then mounted his own steed. The farm wife thrust a bundle of bread and cheese into her hands, then they were off, with the farmer, his wife, and their three workers waving them down the road.

Jinx plotted revenge the whole day long. Over every hill, through every valley. Beneath clouds and sun and the occasional drizzle, she plotted revenge against the despotic Lord Hartley. They rode swiftly, he goading her horse before him when she did not ride fast enough. But to his every remark, she turned a cold shoulder.

"How did you get the name Jinx?" he'd asked at one point.

When she did not reply he answered for her. "Oh, I was a troublesome child, almost as troublesome as I am now."

She stared straight ahead, vowing to remain angry with him. Unfortunately, the ridiculous falsetto voice he'd adopted made it hard.

"You, troublesome?" he said in his own voice. "Oh, yes," he replied, mimicking her once more. "Women who are hardheaded and unreasonable generally behaved the same way during their childhood-"

"I am not unreasonable," Jinx stated in a haughty tone.

"So you admit that you're hardheaded."

"You are hardheaded. I am merely determined."

He had dropped back so that they now rode side by side. "Most people would agree that a young woman sallying forth alone to find her brother is more than merely determined."

She shot him a glare, her anger restored by his patronizing tone. "I was not brought up to be a slave to what 'most people' think. I do what I believe is right."

"As do I."

Frustrated, she urged Daffodil on. She would not ride beside him, conversing as if they were on an afternoon's pleasure ride. She would not exchange banter, nor even insults with him, for it did no good.

But it did not sit well for her to be silent in the face of frustration. She was more wont to lash out with her quick tongue than suffer in silence. Unfortunately, her reactions to Harrison Stirling were simply too irrational. She tried to stay angry, but he charmed her. She tried to shock him and he kissed her. She still had not recovered from that!

Oh, but he was the most arrogant, high-handed, egotistical… She couldn't find words remotely adequate to express her fury. He was the most egotistical man she'd ever had the misfortune to know. So she rode and she fumed and she bided her time. She would have her revenge, one way or another, she vowed. One way or another.

Late afternoon the rain resumed. They were well into the north country now, a pretty land of mountains and lakes, but few villages. They'd made good time, for the road was well maintained. But as they descended into a shallow valley, her captor, as she'd begun to think of him, turned off the road into a private park. Jinx had been riding rather dispiritedly just a little behind him. Now she straightened and peered out from beneath the drooping brim of her bedraggled bonnet.

"Where are you taking me now? Not calling on some friend or another, I hope." The last thing she wanted was for anyone to hear of this incident. Bad enough that everyone thought the Benchleys odd. If it got out she'd spent all this time alone with Lord Hartley, her reputation would be in a complete shambles.

Though her friend Virginia and the housekeeper, Mrs. Honeywell, feared Jinx meant never to marry, that was not so. It was only that-it was difficult to find the right man. But ruining her reputation with Lord Hartley would make it utterly impossible to find a husband.

That thought caused her to straighten even further.

Harrison Stirling was obsessed with his sister's reputation yet he did not mind playing fast and easy with hers. Perhaps it was time that she present a threat to his reputation.

"Where are we going?" she repeated. "This is not the way to Gretna Green. Why have we turned off the main road?"

He shot her a damp, disgruntled look. "So you're speaking to me again."

She tilted her chin to a lofty angle. "I have my reputation to protect. The last thing I want is to be caught in a compromising position with you. I should think you would feel the same."

A muscle began to twitch in his jaw. "The last thing, you say? It didn't feel like the last thing on your mind yesterday."

She fought the rise of color in her cheeks. "If you were a true gentleman, you would not bring that up!"

"If you were a lady, you would not be traipsing across the countryside alone!"

"But I'm not alone, am I? I'm stuck with a vengeful brute who's bent on murdering my brother-my only brother-and bent on ruining me as well!" She wheeled Daffodil around so abruptly the little mare nearly sat down on her haunches. Then she was off, flying down the gravel drive, back toward the main road.

He caught her, of course. His steed was bigger and faster-and probably would not dare to disappoint his demanding rider. He caught her and hauled her right out of the saddle as if she were a sack of some useful victual or another-potatoes or radishes or leeks. Her struggles ceased at once, for she did not want to fall beneath his mount's heavy hooves. But though she clung to the arm wrapped so unrelentingly around her, her verbal protests did not abate.

"You wretched, wretched man!" she shrieked. "What do you think you're doing? Stop this very minute, you barbarian. You brute! Let me down." She batted futilely at him. "Stop and let me down!"

"Not until we reach the house," he muttered. He shifted her higher, so that she now sat across his lap.

"I'll not go riding up there carried in your arms like this for the entire world to see," she swore. "I won't. Do you want to start talk about us? Is that your aim?"

"This is my house. No one will talk."

His house? That put a rather different slant on things. Still, Jinx felt a jolt of alarm. Why was he bringing her to his house?

"To obtain a chaperone," he answered when she questioned him. "For both you and my sister."

"Oh." Though she hated to give him credit for anything, the idea of a chaperone was a very good one. So Jinx sat in silence, with no further struggles as they made their way up the drive. Lord Hartley's horse nickered and Daffodil responded, then turned and ambled along behind them. The park was pretty, with ancient hornbeam and mature oaks and an allée of lime trees. Then they made a turn past a small lake and she saw the house, a handsome three-story country house with chimneys and eyebrow windows aplenty, but no turrets or fanciful downspouts. Still, it was a singularly lovely place and beautifully sited.

They were met in the forecourt by two grooms, while a third ran to alert the housekeeper.

"Miss Benchley is hurt," Harrison blithely fibbed when the two men stared in astonishment at Jinx riding before him. He slid off his, horse, still holding her as if she were an invalid. "A twisted ankle from a fall," he said, embellishing his tale. "Ask Mrs. Downy to prepare the room off the terrace for her. And you," he muttered in Jinx's ear. "You'd best be still if you value your reputation so highly as you profess."

What a fuss! Unfortunately, he made a good point. So Jinx ordered herself to relax in his arms. It was all for the best, and he was trying to protect her reputation. Besides, their delay here would afford Colin and Alice more time to achieve their aim.

But it was exceedingly difficult to relax when Harrison Stirling had one muscular arm cradling her back and the other one curved under her knees.

He carried her up the stairs and down a hall, not waiting for the housekeeper to appear. It was a goodly distance, and Jinx was by no means petite. Yet he seemed unfazed by her weight. She, however, was hardly un-fazed. She should not have been. After all, his ability- or inability-to lift her weight was hardly pertinent to the situation. Yet the fact remained: she could feel the muscles in his arms bunch and shift; she could feel the heavy thud of his heart. And with her every breath she caught his scent, a confusion of horses and sweat, and soap and rain. It made her slightly dizzy.

He made her dizzy.

By the time he kicked open a door and deposited her on a settee draped in furniture cloths, her anger at him had turned into aggravation at herself. When had she become so muddleheaded?

She looked up at him as he pulled away from her. He was in the act of straightening up, but when their gazes met, he froze. He cleared his throat. "Just pretend your ankle is injured, Jinx."

She nodded.

"It's only to protect the reputation you value so." * Again she nodded. Lizard legs, but his eyes were beautiful. Dark as night, yet with a sparkling depth to them.

"Don't look at me like that," he muttered, his voice lower. Huskier.

But she couldn't not look at him like that. He infuriated her and yet he also managed to rouse emotions in her that no other man had ever touched upon. For whatever reason, he fanned to roaring life some small, primitive flame that until now had lain happily dormant.

It was dormant no more.

Their eyes held and he groaned, and she knew he meant to kiss her. Then a knock sounded, he jerked away, and the housekeeper scurried into the room.

" 'Tis sorry I am, sir, to keep you waiting." She curtsied while her curious gaze flitted back and forth between her master and his guest.

Jinx didn't know whether to laugh or cry, the situation was that ludicrous. If only the woman had not come in at just that moment. Jinx needed to find out what was happening between Harrison and her. At the same time, though, she wanted nothing more than to flee and never be tempted by him again. It seemed ridiculously ironic that she could do neither.

So she sat there as he introduced Mrs. Downy. Then he backed away while the housekeeper bustled about, directing two maids to pull back the drapes, open the windows, and remove the furniture cloths.

"I have not been to Grassymere in a while." Harrison spoke into the awkward silence.

When had she begun to think of him as Harrison? "It must be pleasant to have so many estates," she murmured.

He frowned, then signaled to the housekeeper. "You may go. We shall want supper in the dining room. Something simple will suffice." When the woman and her maids left, he faced Jinx from his place across the room from her. "Having so many estates is more duty than pleasure," he said in a tone that sounded awfully defensive.

"I wasn't being critical. I was just… just trying to make polite conversation. You shouldn't be in here alone with me," she added.

He stood stiffly with his hands clasped behind his back, ignoring her last comment. "You weren't implying that my sister need not marry for wealth?"

She stood up, suddenly weary of this debate they waged. "My brother has an estate of his own, as you well know. And while it may not be so grand as this- or as any of your other estates-it is comfortable enough for our needs, despite its peeling paint and ancient carriages. It provides an adequate enough living for a man to bring a wife home," she added, crossing her arms, daring him to disparage Benchley House.

His gaze narrowed. "Two days ago you seemed as determined as I to prevent a marriage between my sister and your brother. Yet now I detect another mood. First you want to abandon the chase. Now you tout your brother's ability to provide for Alice. You aren't reconsidering your position regarding a union between them, are you? Are you?" he repeated.

When she did not respond, but only pursed her lips and looked away, he groaned. "If nothing else, consider this, Jinx. Their union would make us in-laws. Is that what you want?"

"No." She looked back at him. "No." She did not want to be related to him in that way. But the thought occurred to her that unless the marriage went through, she was very likely never to see Harrison again. The shocking truth was, she didn't want that, either.

So what did she want?

He must have sensed her confusion, for he crossed the room until they were less than an arm's length apart. She should have stepped back, but she could not. Then he breached the failing space between them and grasped her by the arms.

"What do you want, Jinx?"

She stared up at him and tried to be honest. "I want none of this ever to have happened."

He grinned, a half-smile that was, temporarily at least, free of all the strain between them. "Do you really?"

"Don't you?"

Slowly he shook his head, and just as slowly, his grin faded. "No, I don't think I do."

Chapter Six

He should know better. He did know better. But that did not alter Harrison 's behavior one whit.

As he pulled Jinx nearer, he consoled himself with the knowledge that he would stop if she protested. But she didn't protest, as he'd known she would not. If she were waiting for him to stop this mad, spiraling desire between them, her trust was sorely misplaced.

So he pulled her nearer, until their breath mingled. Until her thighs brushed his, and the press of her breasts burned his chest. Her eyes, so vividly blue, remained locked with his, as innocent and sultry as a schoolgirl courtesan's. Worldly he might be, but he flung himself headlong into the dangerously deep emotional waters of those eyes. He lowered his head and captured her mouth, and vowed then and there not to give her time to change her mind.

She tasted like no other woman, he dimly realized as he pressed her boldly to him. Nor did she respond like other women, for there was no coyness in her, not an iota. She was who she was, sweet and feisty, strong and innocent. He kissed her, devouring her mouth, invading her with his tongue, and drawing her tongue into his mouth for the heated dance of lovemaking. He would have this woman now.

But what of later?

He hesitated and raised his head. She began to kiss his chin, his neck, and his Adam's apple, however, and the last shreds of logic fled his brain. With one swift motion he lifted her into his arms, while she held his face with her hands and kissed him without ceasing. He lowered her to the bed and lowered himself over her, and still the kiss went on and on. Down the hall a clock began to chime. Up close he was enveloped in the unique scent that perfumed her. Sweet, earthy. Fresh as rain, wild as the forest. ⁽

"I will not let you go," he growled.

"You need not."

"You drive me mad with wanting you."

" 'Tis I who must be mad," she murmured, nibbling the words against his mouth, then nipping his lower lip for emphasis.

He covered her breast with one hand and swallowed her little gasp with a hungry kiss. After that there was little room for speech. His clothing and hers were stripped away, sometimes a frantic struggle, other times a torturous peeling away. He found the mysterious bells around her ankle and, in the process, kissed every bit of skin she revealed, every sweet, supple inch of her, from her pink toes, to her luscious mouth, from the anklet of bells that made her every movement musical, to the masses of fiery hair that drew him like a beacon.

Her little cries and artless moans urged him on. Creamy thighs, sweet belly. He traced a circle around her navel with his tongue, then slid farther up her lithe torso, anointing each rib. He lay between her legs, braced on his elbows. Before him her breasts were exposed to his gaze, lovely pale flesh crested with taut, rosy buds that attested to her arousal. Her breaths came short and shallow. Her eyes were glazed with passion.

She was his now. His.

His own breathing was ragged. "Unloose your hair," he said. "It's so beautiful. Unloose it for me, Jinx."

One of her hands cupped his face; the other rested on his bare shoulder. He saw her uncertainty, so he dipped his head and circled one nipple with his tongue. Then he kissed it, tugging it up into his mouth. She arched up with a cry of acquiescence.

When he raised his head again she began shakily to release her hair from its twists and coils. With her arms extended above her head that way, she looked like a wanton creature, a pagan offering to the gods of earthly delights. He actually hurt with his need to possess her. He captured her raised wrists with one hand, and with the other drew her flame-colored tresses down across her shoulders and chest and breasts. The ends curled near her waist, showing only tantalizing glimpses of her delicious skin between the tendrils.

If his violent desire frightened her, her fear was overcome with passion, for she groaned when once more he teased her nipples with his tongue and lips and teeth.

" Harrison." She breathed his name, and he nearly embarrassed himself, so profoundly did that single sound affect him.

"I cannot go slow," he muttered, half in warning, half in apology. "Then don't."

It was the last straw. He slid up her, letting her feel the strength he meant to release upon her, giving her one last chance to stop this insanity they'd plunged into. But she only gazed up at him, wide-eyed and accepting. Eager. So he drew her legs up and then, capturing her mouth with his, he pressed into her.

Her welcome was sweet and oh, so hot. He slid inside her and she began to writhe. He grew bolder, met with resistance, then thrust past it. She shuddered. He felt it in their kiss. But he worked to rouse her further, sliding his tongue in and out until she melted once more. Then he began the same rhythm with his hips.

Such a fire. Such a raging inferno. His passion was a mad beast, possessing him. Possessing her. But as he plunged, deeper and deeper, faster and faster, she met his passion with an equal passion of her own. Her legs wrapped round his hips. Her hands slipped over the damp skin of his back and arms and shoulders. She roused him as he roused her. But still he struggled to restrain himself.

Then he felt it, in every part of his being: she was near. He could bring her there, this innocent wanton he'd discovered in the unlikeliest of circumstances.

Her cries became more helpless. Her body tensed. Then she arched in that exquisite culmination, and he could hold back no longer. He plunged even deeper than before and exploded into her with as much pride as desire, and with as much satisfaction for her as for himself.

Afterward he held her as she eased down from the euphoria she'd found-that they'd found together. He wrapped his arms around her and held her against him, reveling in the warmth of her damp flesh against his, breathing deeply of the fragrance of man and woman joined at last. He would have to make this right, he told himself as she fitted herself more comfortably in his embrace.

Her breathing slowed; she'd fallen asleep. Harrison pressed a kiss into the heavy tangle of her glorious hair. He would have to make this right. It was one thing to carry on with your mistress, or a widow, or even someone else's wife. But to ruin an innocent young woman? No, a gentleman could not do that. He must make it right.

Yet instead of feeling trapped by that knowledge, Harrison felt the oddest sense of relief. Of freedom. He ran his hand down her arm and wove his fingers between hers. How many years had he searched for a woman to wed?

Then he sighed and smiled, and drifted into peaceful slumber.

Jinx awakened to absolute darkness and complete disorientation. Her stomach growled. She was starving. She must have missed supper. Where was she? What room was this? What bed- What man?

There was only one man it could be, and in a tumble, everything came back to her. She and Harrison had-

"Bee's knees. Toad eggs. Lizard legs! What have I done?" she muttered into the night. She tried to think and to avoid the panic that theatened to overwhelm her. But she couldn't think while lying so intimately in his arms. First she must get out of the bed.

But when she tried to slide away from him, Harrison sighed and shifted with her. She was nestled up to him, her naked backside against his naked front side. For a moment she hesitated. Had it truly been as wonderful as she remembered? A spiral of lingering passion answered yes, it had been that wonderful. That stupendous. That unbelievable.

But that did not mean it had been right.

She groaned and, for one minute only, succumbed to utter despair. What must he think of her now? And what in heaven's name was she to do?

She was saved pondering that ghastly thought by the sound of footfalls in the hall and the worried voice of a woman.

"… but it might be better if I fetch her, sir."

"Which room?" a man's voice demanded. An angry man's voice. A familiar man's voice.

"Please don't be hasty, dear," another woman pleaded.

"I'll handle this, Alice."

Alice?

Colin?

Jinx leapt upright. Colin was here? Now?

Her heart sank even as hex body sprang to life. She must stop him! She must avert this disaster.

"Not so fast," Harrison mumbled, catching her around the waist and pulling her down on top of him. He was warm and strong and her body reacted most perversely to him. "You're not ever to try to escape me again," he murmured, nuzzling her neck.

Then the door burst open, a lantern cast the room in wildly careening light, and Jinx shrieked and dove beneath the covers.

"What in bloody hell!" Harrison roared, bolting upright.

"I'll see you in hell this very night!" Colin roared back. "Get away from him, Jinx, so that I can kill him!"

"She stays right here," Harrison vowed. "Who in the hell are you?" Then he spied his sister. " Alice?" Then in the next breath, "Benchley? You bastard!" he yelled, leaping from the bed with only a pillow to cover his naked state. "I'll have your head on a pike!"

"And I'll skewer you for ruining my sister!"

Jinx peered out at the scene from beneath the rumpled bed linens. Beside the bed, tousled from sleep and from their lovemaking, Harrison, naked as the day he was born, stood tensed as if for battle. Across the room, just inside the doorway, stood Colin, livid with anger. A petite blonde clung with all her might to his arm, managing but barely to stop him from attacking Harrison.

So this was Alice. No wonder Colin had fallen in love with her. If she was even half so good-hearted as she was lovely, he'd done very well, indeed. Still, Alice was not her immediate concern.

Though it was the most humiliating moment in her life, Jinx squared her shoulders, drew the sheet up to her chin, and rose awkwardly to her knees on the mattress. "That will be quite enough from you two."

Colin transferred his furious gaze from Harrison to her… "Jinx-"

"Not one word from you," she snapped. "Not one word. How could you do it, running away like that?"

"Because we love one another," he snapped right back. "And she feared her brother would not approve of me. What are you doing here anyway?"

"Searching for you!"

"In his bed?" Colin spat. He surged forward again with knotted fists, but Alice planted herself firmly in front of him. She was tiny, but she was determined.

"I will not have my husband and my brother fighting," she swore. "I will not allow it."

"Your husband?" Harrison shouted.

"You're married?" Jinx cried.

"This morning. We're just back from Gretna Green," Alice replied. "So you see, Harrison, it is too late for you to interfere."

"Not if you haven't-" Harrison broke off and his voice dropped. "You haven't, have you?"

Alice gave him a smug smile. "We have," she replied. Colin wrapped an arm about her and looked down at his pretty new bride with such pride and love shining in his eyes that Jinx wanted to cry with happiness. Colin was such a dear. A hardheaded, opinionated dear, but a dear just the same. He deserved every happiness and she had the warm feeling he would find it with Alice.

But then Colin glowered at Harrison, and Jinx knew this mess was far from resolved.

"We are wed," Colin said. "But I doubt you two can claim that. Not yet, anyway."

Harrison had wound a section of sheeting around his hips. Unfortunately it was the end of the same sheet that shielded Jinx from view. She tugged and he tugged back, and they had no choice but to both edge nearer one another.

"This is not what it seems," Jinx began.

"Yes it is," Harrison said.

She glared at him. Whose side was he on? "This is all Colin's fault. It would never have happened if he hadn't run off with Alice."

Colin's eyes bulged with outrage. "He did this to you for revenge? You out-and-out bounder-"

"I didn't say it was revenge. And I won't have such language!" Jinx shouted.

"Nor will I!" Alice concurred.

"I did not do… did not take… did not-Bloody hell," Harrison swore. He glowered at Colin. "I fully intend to marry your sister."

"I should hope so," Colin muttered, but his tension did seem to abate somewhat.

Jinx's, however, did not. Marry her? Harrison would do that? She felt a surge of emotions: relief, joy. Then, swiftly, gloom. She did not want him to marry her out of a sense of duty.

"I believe it takes two to marry," she said. "And I'm not likely to agree'to such a union between us."

"You agreed the moment you accepted him into your bed," Colin stated, stalking right up to the footboard. "It's too late for you to say no now."

"I will not allow you to arrange my life for me, Colin. Not you, nor anyone else."

He threw his hands up in the air. "You must marry him, Jinx, or else you will be ruined. Can't you see that?"

"I must do no such thing!" she retorted.

Then a hand caught her by the arm and her argument was no longer with her brother. Harrison stared down at her, his face serious. "Why won't you marry me?"

"Because… Because…" She swallowed hard, searching for words. "For one thing, you haven't asked me. You just announced that you would marry me, without ever consulting me about it. You're far too highhanded to make a good husband-"

"Will you marry me?"

That shut up her nervous babbling.

"I…" She shook her head and frowned. "I don't think that would be at all wise. We don't get along very well. You know that's so. We disagree about everything."

"The only thing we have disagreed on was whether your brother and my sister should wed. And that has just become a moot point."

"We hardly know one another," she said.

Colin let out a snort, while Harrison grinned at her. "We know each other well enough."

Her cheeks grew hotter still. He had her there. "But… but I'm not rich enough for you," she said, beginning to run out of excuses and afraid to point out the only real reason she had to object: that he didn't love her.

Then again, did she love him?

As Jinx stared at him, at his bare chest and broad shoulders and casually tousled hair, the oddest feeling settled over her. He was smart and loyal, and honorable. He was a generous lover and had a wry sense of humor, and he had the knack of surprising her. Plus, he set her heart to racing and her stomach to churning in ways she couldn't begin to understand.

Did she love him already?

She knew at once she did.

But instead of allowing her gracefully to accede to his request, the fact that she loved him only strengthened her resolve not to let him marry her out of a sense of duty. She shook her head once more and fought back the sting of unexpected tears.

"I don't need a rich wife," he said, scowling now.

"You don't need a wife at all," she whispered.

"Perhaps we should leave," Alice suggested.

"Are you mad?" Colin exclaimed. "Look at them. They're naked."

"Yes. They are," she agreed, taking hold of his arm and steering him toward the door. "Wait a minute, Alice -"

"No, Colin. Trust me in this. They must settle this between themselves, just as we made our decision absent of the interference of others."

A nervous shiver snaked up Jinx's spine. "I don't think you should go," she said.

But it was too late. Something had passed between Alice and Colin, some shared look that lightened his mood considerably. "Perhaps you're right after all, my dear." He glanced over at Harrison and actually smiled. "I hope you can convince her to marry you, Hartley, else I'll be forced to issue you a challenge, come the dawn."

It was all too ludicrous, Jinx thought as the couple departed, closing the door with a decisive click. All along she had feared Harrison challenging Colin, but instead, her brother had issued Harrison a challenge- albeit a friendly, grinning one.

Oh, but men were a perverse lot.

Still, this madness was not yet done, for she must deal with Harrison and his dutiful, and therefore unacceptable, proposal. She cleared her throat. "You needn't offer for me simply because of what has happened here between us."

"That's not why I offered for you."

He dropped the end of the sheet and sat down beside her. She scooted to the opposite side of the bed, still hiding her nakedness.

"While it's very nice of you to say that, and I appreciate the gesture, we both know the truth."

"No, I don't believe we both do."

She chanced a sidelong glance at him. "What does that mean?"

"It means that you could not possibly know why I want to marry you. I'm only just figuring it out for myself."

Jinx clutched the sheet tighter around her and tried not to notice how magnificent he looked in the altogether. "If you mean sex, well, yes, it was very nice. Very nice," she repeated. "But there should be more to marriage than merely procreation."

At that he started to laugh. "What we did in this bed was not 'merely procreation.' That was making love, Jinx. Love."

Love? She couldn't help it. She stared at him wide-eyed, knowing her emotions were bare to his examination, knowing that with one glance he would be able to guess all her secrets.

"Yes, love," he said, answering her silent question. "I know all about duty, Jinx. I know I must wed and create an heir for the Hartley line, and I've searched diligently for a woman to fill the role of my wife. But I was always looking for her with my head, not with my heart. Only now do I see that."

He sat there staring at her so earnestly, so sincerely, that Jinx was overcome. She was not a weeper; she never had been. Yet tears welled in her eyes, then one by one spilled over.

He reached out and with his thumb gently smoothed them away. "I love you, Jinx. I love you wet and bedraggled. And angry and obstinate. And even cross-eyed. Your every incarnation managed to trap me more and more securely in your web until now…" He lifted his arms and let them fall in a gesture of helplessness. "I love you. I only hope you can learn to love me, too."

"I do. I do love you," she blurted out. Then not allowing herself time to think, she launched herself into his arms. In a moment they were locked in an embrace, legs, arms, and sheets, all tangled together.

"I love you, Harrison," she murmured between sweet

kisses and hot kisses and seething, writhing kisses. "I love you."

"And you'll marry me?"

She drew her face back from his. She lay on top of him yet she knew she was as trapped by him as if he held her down by force. Love had caught her in its snare. How lovely a thought that was.

"I'll marry you, but on one condition."

He did not look in the least surprised. "And what is the condition?"

"You'll approve of Colin and Alice's marriage."

He laughed. "Oh, that. I conceded that battle to you yesterday."

"You did?"

"When I decided I could not let you go, I knew I would have to accept the rest of your family as well,"

"You decided that yesterday?" When Harrison grinned and nodded, Jinx smiled at him, certain she'd never at any moment of her entire life been happier than she was now. Without planning to do so, she'd somehow fallen in love. And so had her soon-to-be husband.

A love match. Fancy that.

Epilogue

THE SUNDAY TIMES LONDON, MAY 30, 1824

These are shocking times, dear readers. Shocking times, indeed.

On Wednesday past, Hartley Hall, that grand manse on Grosvenor Square, was the scene of unanticipated excitement. The Hartley mansion is renowned for its collection of classical bronzes and early weaponry, and also, in years past, for the exquisite balls and receptions hosted by the late Marquis and Marchioness of Hartley. The ceremony on the evening in question, however, was of another sort entirely: the newest Marchioness of Hartley made her unannounced entrance.

Yes, dear readers, your eyes do not deceive you. Harrison Stirling, Marquis of Hartley, is wed, a fact many will find even harder to credit, once advised of the scandalous circumstances of his marriage. But be in no doubt. It is a fait accompli. The eligible Lord Hartley is eligible no longer.

Your faithful correspondent has learned that the new marchioness is the former Miss Jillian Benchley, eldest daughter of the late Honourable Stanley Benchley and his late wife, the former Violetta Greenleigh. While I will allow that the bride is rather striking, tall with a graceful carriage and a crown of blazing tresses, she also has an odd air, rather exotic and foreign. One would swear bells tinkle in her wake. If nothing else, she will be a most entertaining addition to town society. No doubt invitations to Hartley House will be greatly in demand for the remainder of this season.

One wonders, of course, about such an unseemly haste to wed. Responding to inquiries about why no announcements were made prior to their union, Lord Hartley remarked only that his marriage is his private concern-his and his wife's.

It is speculated that Lord Hartley purchased a special license to wed in Derby, where he has a fine estate. But others whisper that the wedding took place in Gretna Green. Shocking, if such is true.

Compounding the scandal further, Lady Alice, Lord Hartley's only sister, wed the new marchioness's brother, Mister Colin Benchley. Rumors associated with the second couple had abounded in recent weeks, but as in the case of Lord Hartley, no announcement was made prior to the wedding.

This writer went so far in the search for the truth as to question Clarence Benchley, Viscount Geffen, regarding the sudden marriages of both his niece and nephew into the exalted Hartley line. There was no mistaking Lord Geffen's shock to hear of it, nor his extreme pleasure at the advantageous matches the younger Benchleys had made.

Advantageous, indeed! The Benchley siblings come from a long line of eccentrics who seek out mates in unlikely quarters. However, the current generation seems to have come to its senses. (Though whispers of arriviste ate bound to be heard.)

As for the Hartley siblings, one must ponder the reasons that led them to the altar. In Lord Hartley's case, he has exercised the right of any well-fixed young lord to marry beneath him if he so desires, assuming the lady is presentable in society. For that same lord to allow his sister to make such a match, however, is far less comprehensible.

However, your faithful correspondent has discovered the true reason for the hasty weddings. The handsome Benchley siblings have apparently captured the hearts of Lord Hartley and his sister. Lord Hartley did not respond directly to my queries, but as he escorted his bride up the steps of her new home, he paused, and in plain view of neighbors, journalists, and servants alike, kissed her.

A love match? Draw your own conclusions, dear readers. But remember always that you have read it first in the Sunday Times. Harrison Stirling, Marquis of Hartley, former rake and man-about-town, has been landed by an eccentric country miss, with love as her only bait. A curious situation, indeed. A veritable scandal.

It remains now to be seen whether this year's crop of eligible misses will take a page from Lady Hartley's hook. While the mamas angle for titles and the papas root out deep pockets, will the daughters chase after love? This writer certainly hopes so. For the fact remains that this season has, until now, been frightfully dull. Ah, la barbel A trifle more love in the London air might liven matters up considerably.