Page 31 of Wickedly Yours
Rowan didn’t so much as widen his eyes at the comment. He had found, over time, that it was best to keep a poker face when dealing with His Grace. The man had an uncanny ability to decipher a person’s thoughts.
When he didn’t answer, the man across from him turned and looked out the window. “Is there something in the garden that interests you? Perhaps my collection of topiaries?”
“Possibly.” He saw the knowing look on the duke’s face. “Would you excuse me, Your Grace?”
“She likes to take the path around the weeping willow. Watch your step as that part of the garden is murky and a bit ferocious, much like my sister. Be careful, Malden. Arabella has been known to bite.”
Rowan stood. “Like most wild things, Your Grace. Give Jemma my love.”
* * *
The dull grayof Arabella’s dress wasn’t difficult to make out amongst the riot of color in the garden. Flashes of gray popped in and out of the brilliant spray of red roses and the deep green of the trees and grass. As he followed the path, Rowan came up behind her, enjoying the gentle sway of her hips as she walked. Her dress was devoid of any decoration, as he expected, and more appropriate for a governess than the sister of a duke. Her glorious hair was once again brutally tortured into a fat braid that was then curled at the base of her slender neck.
Rowan’s fingers itched at the thought of taking apart that braid.
“Hello, Bella.” He used the shortened version of her name purposefully. Doing so annoyed her and he did so delight in annoying Arabella. “I am relieved to see you’ve survived your illness.”
She turned and for a moment, he saw a flicker of joy at the sight of him in the depths of her dark eyes. Recovering quickly, her lips curled into a frown. “I’ve not been ill.”
Rowan imagined the red chemise covering her generous curves beneath the staid dress she wore. He’d thought of little else since leaving her with her brother a fortnight ago. He craved Arabella as a thirsty man craves water. “How odd. I’ve called twice this week and in both instances Peabody assured me that you were unwell.”
“I don’t suppose you considered I’d no wish to see you, Lord Malden.” She was so stiff from displeasure Rowan thought her neck would likely snap from the effort of holding herself like a pike.
“Of course you wish to see me.” He ignored the small hiss of irritation she made. “And I thought we agreed that I was to be called Rowan. My reward for riding all over England searching for you.”
“You decided. I did not. Riding all over England is a bit of an exaggeration don’t you think? There is truly only one main road to Scotland.” Her lashes lowered to fan the pale skin of her cheeks before raising her chin to glare at him.
Rowan wanted to laugh at her waspish retort but instead he deliberately rested his gaze on the rise of her bosom. “I detest you in gray. Brown is barely tolerable.”
Arabella sucked in her breath, which only served to push her ample breasts forward, straining the fabric. Even though the dress was ridiculously high-necked, Rowan still felt the sting of arousal. She could be dressed in a nun’s habit and he’d still want her.
“What is it you wish to speak to me about? I’m sure you didn’t seek me out just to attack the color of my clothing. Perhaps you’ve reconsidered?” She turned from him as the words tapered off and she pretended to study one overlarge bloom.
“No. I’ve not reconsidered. Do you want your reputation ruined?”
“Miranda has survived a blow to her reputation,” she countered.
“True. But she had the Dowager at her side and even then,” he shrugged, “Miranda often found herself a wallflower. You would not be admitted anywhere in London.”
She spun about to face him. “I’ve a mind to visit Italy. Or perhaps I’ll travel to India.” Her eyes narrowed. “No one in London truly believes the story of our mutual affection which resulted in our being spotted at the inn. Not even Lavinia Woodstock whoactuallysaw us.” Arabella shook her head.
Rowan couldn’t take his eyes from her lips. Lush and full, Arabella’s mouth was the color of ripe berries. He wanted to kiss her senseless and run his hands over the curves of her body. He had no intention of breaking off their betrothal.
“There is also the past to contend with,” she sputtered.
“Oh dear, shall we revisit that again, Bella? Ancient history.” He knew Arabella would come back around to Uncle William, Jemma’s father. The manhadcommitted treason. And he’d framed Arabella’s father for the deed. They had all suffered enough for the sins of his uncle, but that was in the past.
“I do not think your family is quite so cavalier and will welcome me with open arms. I—” She cleared her throat as if the words were painful. “Wronged your cousin.”
“You did. And that’s a rather polite way to admit to being an accomplice to kidnapping.” There was no point in denying it. Arabella had done a bloodyterriblething. The only difference between then and today was Rowan now understoodwhyshe’d done it.
Her dark eyes flashed with anger at his quick agreement. “Think about it, Malden. You said you wished to punish me. What better way than to discard me and have me branded a ruined woman?” A harsh laugh left her. “Surely that is what your family would want rather than have you marry me out of some sense of misplaced honor. You should marry whom you wish.”
Difficult, contrary Arabella. She was right of course, on all points. He should leave her to flail in the wind and salvage what she could of her reputation before disappearing into obscurity. But he couldn’t. “How do you know I amnotmarrying whom I wish?”
She turned from him, whipping her head around abruptly. The look of fear and horror on her features had been so comical Rowan smiled to himself.
“I wish you to leave.” Her fists clenched at her sides as she kept her gaze focused on the garden.
