seemed overlong in coming, however, she risked a sidelong gaze across the table at him and caught a frightening glimpse of his jaw clenching.
"To quarrel with you this evening is not my intent, Alayna, I am merely trying to ascertain why you . . ." He paused, then sat back in his chair, completely ignoring the fact that it was his turn to play.
Wondering what was the trouble now, Chelsea's heart leapt to her throat as she gazed full at him.
"I am trying to understand why you persist in refusing to comply with my wishes in regard to living in Honduras, Alayna. Your insubordination in the matter is quite troubling. If you must know, I am unaccustomed to disobedience."
Chelsea felt an unwelcome surge of heat color her cheeks. She did not even have to think before replying to the gentleman this time. "I am hardly one of your slaves, Rutherford," she said in a breathless rush. "And what exactly do my former suitors have to say to anything?"
"So," his eyes snapped, "you admit to other suitors?"
Chelsea's lips tightened. "I admit to nothing."
"Dammit, Alayna!" He slammed his cards onto the table. Apparently the volume of his tone, and the sudden action, awoke Lady Rathbone, for across the room, she sat up with a start.
"Beginning to thunder again?" she mumbled from her chair.
Chelsea rose to her feet and moved swiftly to the old lady's side. "No, Aunt Millie, Rutherford was just . . ." She cast an accusing look at him. "Overset," she concluded. "We are playing a game and I expect he drew a bad hand."
Lady Rathbone twisted about in her chair. "Mustn't take on so, Rutherford, it is only a game."
In spite of the gnawing guilt she felt for inciting Lord Rathbone's intense anger Chelsea silently voiced her agreement to that.
* * * *
D ammit! What was it going to take to uncover the truth behind her refusal to obey him, Lord Rathbone demanded of himself, as he stalked toward his chamber that night. And worse, what did it really matter? Despite her objections to living with him in Honduras, she would acquiesce in the end. She would become his wife and that's all there was to say for it.
Flinging his coat and waistcoat to a chair, he fumbled with the stiff linen he'd so carefully wrapped about his neck before dinner. He thought he had unearthed the reason for her obstinacy when he'd decided she was simply afraid to remove to an unknown clime. But, apparently he'd been wrong. Then, when she'd refused to kiss him the other evening, he thought perhaps her reticence was due to her youth and innocence; that perhaps she had never been kissed before. Now, he was beginning to think otherwise. That she had fallen in love with someone and was, therefore, reluctant to leave the gentleman behind in England made more sense. Anger roiled within him as he unbuttoned his trousers. Guilt had been as evident on her face tonight as puzzlement was on his!
Alayna had had a Season, after all, and with her beauty, it was hard to imagine that she had attracted no notice whatever amongst London's eager young bucks. In fact, it was hard to believe that she had not been snapped up after first being introduced to society at her come-out ball.
He tossed his trousers aside and reached for his dressing gown. Wrapping it about himself, he crossed the room to pour himself a stiff draught of spirits. But downing the drink did not push thoughts of Alayna from his mind. Carrying the bottle with him to the comfortable wing chair positioned before the fire, he continued on in the same vein.
So far as he could see, apart from her extraordinary looks, Alayna had nothing of value to offer a man. The orphaned daughter of an impoverished peer who had had the good fortune to marry a Campbell, she had no funds of her own and no connections to speak of. Which is one of the reasons Rutherford had agreed so readily to the match. Being the only surviving male in the family, he felt a compelling duty to look out for his female counterparts. By marrying Alayna, he was
"To quarrel with you this evening is not my intent, Alayna, I am merely trying to ascertain why you . . ." He paused, then sat back in his chair, completely ignoring the fact that it was his turn to play.
Wondering what was the trouble now, Chelsea's heart leapt to her throat as she gazed full at him.
"I am trying to understand why you persist in refusing to comply with my wishes in regard to living in Honduras, Alayna. Your insubordination in the matter is quite troubling. If you must know, I am unaccustomed to disobedience."
Chelsea felt an unwelcome surge of heat color her cheeks. She did not even have to think before replying to the gentleman this time. "I am hardly one of your slaves, Rutherford," she said in a breathless rush. "And what exactly do my former suitors have to say to anything?"
"So," his eyes snapped, "you admit to other suitors?"
Chelsea's lips tightened. "I admit to nothing."
"Dammit, Alayna!" He slammed his cards onto the table. Apparently the volume of his tone, and the sudden action, awoke Lady Rathbone, for across the room, she sat up with a start.
"Beginning to thunder again?" she mumbled from her chair.
Chelsea rose to her feet and moved swiftly to the old lady's side. "No, Aunt Millie, Rutherford was just . . ." She cast an accusing look at him. "Overset," she concluded. "We are playing a game and I expect he drew a bad hand."
Lady Rathbone twisted about in her chair. "Mustn't take on so, Rutherford, it is only a game."
In spite of the gnawing guilt she felt for inciting Lord Rathbone's intense anger Chelsea silently voiced her agreement to that.
* * * *
D ammit! What was it going to take to uncover the truth behind her refusal to obey him, Lord Rathbone demanded of himself, as he stalked toward his chamber that night. And worse, what did it really matter? Despite her objections to living with him in Honduras, she would acquiesce in the end. She would become his wife and that's all there was to say for it.
Flinging his coat and waistcoat to a chair, he fumbled with the stiff linen he'd so carefully wrapped about his neck before dinner. He thought he had unearthed the reason for her obstinacy when he'd decided she was simply afraid to remove to an unknown clime. But, apparently he'd been wrong. Then, when she'd refused to kiss him the other evening, he thought perhaps her reticence was due to her youth and innocence; that perhaps she had never been kissed before. Now, he was beginning to think otherwise. That she had fallen in love with someone and was, therefore, reluctant to leave the gentleman behind in England made more sense. Anger roiled within him as he unbuttoned his trousers. Guilt had been as evident on her face tonight as puzzlement was on his!
Alayna had had a Season, after all, and with her beauty, it was hard to imagine that she had attracted no notice whatever amongst London's eager young bucks. In fact, it was hard to believe that she had not been snapped up after first being introduced to society at her come-out ball.
He tossed his trousers aside and reached for his dressing gown. Wrapping it about himself, he crossed the room to pour himself a stiff draught of spirits. But downing the drink did not push thoughts of Alayna from his mind. Carrying the bottle with him to the comfortable wing chair positioned before the fire, he continued on in the same vein.
So far as he could see, apart from her extraordinary looks, Alayna had nothing of value to offer a man. The orphaned daughter of an impoverished peer who had had the good fortune to marry a Campbell, she had no funds of her own and no connections to speak of. Which is one of the reasons Rutherford had agreed so readily to the match. Being the only surviving male in the family, he felt a compelling duty to look out for his female counterparts. By marrying Alayna, he was
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