Page 42 of The Lord Meets His Lady
Khan trotted forward, putting distance between them. Beyond the road, the landscape opened wide. Marcus felt his blood coursing with need. To go fast. To hear wind fly past his ears and see the ground surging beneath him.
Oh, how he needed sex. Stroking himself in the tub was getting tiresome.
A good, fast ride between soft, feminine thighs…
He glimpsed Miss Turner’s red cloak and cursed under his breath. Samuel caught up, blocking Marcus’s view of her. Their mounts slowed when they neared the second meadow’s gate, a sorry excuse for a barrier propped up by wooden stakes.
Samuel squinted at the empty pasture. “You haven’t asked why Alexander won’t give you any competition with your fair housekeeper.”
“Very well. Why?”
“Because he asked me to purchase an army commission. He’s set on going to the colonies.”
“And you discouraged him.”
“Of course I did. I want him to stay.”
Marcus faced the pasture, looking but not seeing. “And because he’s as hardheaded as you, he threatened to leave with or without your blessing. Is that it?”
“He should partner in this venture,” Samuel groused. “I’ll need help after you leave.”
Marcus’s grip on the reins tightened. Samuel took every opportunity to push, sometimes pound, for what he wanted. He’d not rise to the bait.
“About my staying, I don’t know…” He let his words trail off.
“Whether you stay or go, we’ll need more mares.”
Marcus jabbed a thumb at the herd nibbling dormant grass. “We’ve thirty. Right here. That’s enough.”
“Not when we can put thirty more over here.”
Spine military straight, Samuel eyed the vacant pasture. They hadn’t fixed the fences there. The propped-up gate kept the mares in place, but it would need to be repaired if horses were added.
“Why the push for more? We’ve barely started.”
“My brothers deserve a better life. If we accelerate our plans, I can give it to them.”
“You mean hire the tutor posthaste and buy Alexander’s commission.” Marcus shook his head. “A venture like this takes time. You said so yourself.”
“Ican’t wait.” Samuel’s jaw ticked. “If an opportunity arises to do something for my brothers, I will seize it.”
Marcus stared into the distance. Adam and Alexander labored on behalf of his cottage. Young Adam pushed a wheelbarrow, while Alexander tested the newly planed door. Samuel was willing to bend himself in knots to give his brothers what was best, a stark contrast to himself and his brother, the Marquis of Northampton. He couldn’t recall a single kind overture from North. Nor could he recount the last time he’d extended himself for the marquis.
“Alexander’s impatient to leave,” Samuel went on. “He’ll be twenty next month, nearly a man full grown. I won’t hold him back from what he wants.”
“You can if you don’t have money to pay for it.”
As soon as the words were said, Marcus’s dazed stare drifted over the barren field.
Wasn’t this the crux of problems with his brother?
Once his brother, Gabriel—North, as most people called him—became marquis, he had fought to mold Marcus to family expectations. Being a miser with Marcus’s annual allowance was how he wielded his power. And here Samuel was, extending himself, taking huge risks to ensure his brothers had the lives they wanted.
By reflex, Marcus’s hand settled over his heart, ready to slip inside his redingote. But the flask was gone. His fingers curled into a fist and dropped to the pommel. “You’ve brought me out here for some request. What is it?”
“Am I that obvious?”
“Next time you ask to inspect a fence,” Marcus said drily, “make a show of looking at it.”
