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“The marriage kind.” He grinned. “You ‘ave his ring on your finger, ninny. Do you think I’m blind?”
“I am not married,” she said. She was not ready to explain why she thought herself free.
“We’ll discuss that lie later, when you’re fed and the horse found.” He jerked his thumb. “Up and dress, before I change my mind. I’ve plenty to do about the farm without chasing after a nag.”
The shirt reached her knees and she had to roll up the sleeves to find her hands. Her riding boots were dry but not the stockings. He offered her the modesty of his long overcoat; the heavy tweed covered her to the ankles. He served her cold porridge in a wooden bowl. If she wasn’t so hungry, she would have asked him to warm it on the fire. The tea, though, was pleasant and hot, although weaker than her customary brew. It was somewhat odd that he could afford good quality tea and live in such a humble abode.
Mary had not gone far at all. She was eating Matthew’s haystack. He grumbled at her, but when he took her reins, he gave her mane a stroke and her haunch a pat. “There, you’re safe now.”
He tied her to the fence in the yard.
Dara removed the bag from where she’d attached it to the saddle. “Thank goodness. Clean clothes.”
She rushed indoors and while he busied himself with cleaning the mud off Mary’s legs, she changed into a gown and fresh stockings, ensuring her bodice was taut and her waist drawn in.
Matthew stood in the doorway, the light behind him. He filled the space, leaving a little brightness to seep through. “Now what was the point of that?”
“What?” she asked, brushing her hair with the ebony-backed hairbrush.
“Putting them clothes back on.”
She started. Did he mean to bed her again? She was still a little sore from the first time, although not to the extent she might have anticipated. Was it appropriate now that her ‘debt’ was paid? She had a long journey ahead of her and that should be her focus. However, watching him stroll into his cottage, his eyes glued on her, she was struggling with those aches and tingles, the kind that signalled she was not in a hurry to leave him.
“Why should I not change into my clothes?” she asked.
“Cos I can’t tan your hide with them on, can I?” He closed the door behind him.
“Tan my... whatever for? You can’t mean it...” She staggered back against the wall.
“I mean what I say, lass. Now you lied about that ring. You’re no convent bred girl either, so don’t bother to tell me you’re married to Christ.”
“I can’t be married to any man if I’m a virgin.” She stuck out her chin.
“Then why do you have a ring upon that finger? Eh?” He picked up the saddlebag from the table, rummaged inside, and pulled out the pouch of gems.
She was aghast. He was a thief. She had allowed a common thief to trick her.
“Now don’t gawp at me. I searched this while you slept and found these pretty things. Worth a fair penny, too. So, here’s me thinking, she’s run off. Got herself married, then run off with his fortune. These are not going to be easy to sell, I can tell you. Some rogue will do a crooked deal with you to get ‘em cheap. Tell me the truth and I’ll make sure they go back to their rightful owner.”
He had the measure of her too well. But she wasn’t a thief. The gems were a gift to her and she was more than capable of selling them for a fair price. She moved away from the wall. “I’m not lying. They are mine.”
He shook his head. “You’ve taken a husband in bad faith and now you’re taking his fortune. So, off with them clothes, and I’ll tan you with my hand and belt, then if you tell me the truth, I’ll not punish you further. So let’s be getting on with the deed, I’ve other things to do.”
She blanched. He was serious. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and between her thighs, she was a dam about to burst its banks. Matthew, far from making her want to run away, was crushing her resistance. He had some of the truth, but not all of it, and if she told him the real story of her marriage, how her husband had failed to consummate it, would he think it was her fault, like most men probably would? She might warrant a spanking for denying her husband existed, but not for taking the jewels. As for running away, it was a moot point. She intended to return, eventually.
She folded her arms across her chest. “If you want to do it, then you’ll have to come and get me over your knee yourself.” She spoke before she could think through the consequences. Matthew was not a man who went back on his words.
“Fair enough. I’ll come over there, strip you bare, bend you over this table, and spank that arse until its red and blooming. You’ll feel the stripes of my belt. Then if you can take it, I’ll pleasure that tight hole of yours. If after all that you think you want to leave, you can go; otherwise, I’ll let you stay until you’ve sorted out how you plan to return the things you’ve stolen from your husband, including yourself, since he’s party to that possession too. How does that sound to you?”
She was defeated. She had no inclination to run or hide from him. He could do exactly what he wanted, because he had offered her the one thing she truly desired, the chance to stay. She would dangle before him the three months her husband was away and use it to suggest a proposal. Have me for three months, Matthew, and I will do whatever you wish, and then I’ll go back to him educated in womanly ways and debauched enough that even the austere Lord Coleman would not be able to resist me.
Chapter Two
Matthew rolled up his sleeves. The girl was feisty, he granted her that, but that wasn’t what drew him to lie with her. She’d never know what it meant to him that he’d broken his long fast. He never thought any woman would bring that famine to an end. She was an angel, even if he’d found her in the mud. An angel blessed with a pretty face, mint eyes, a neck he could ring with one hand, an hourglass figure, and bountiful hair.
Dara, if that was her real name, was a lady. He’d no doubt that she was aristocracy and probably titled. But, for now, he didn’t care to know her family name, only that of her husband, and why she’d left him. She had a story to tell and he would eke it out of her with his firm hand and belt if necessary.
He could so easily rip off her clothes, it would be deeply satisfying to feel the cloth shred in his hands and watch her quiver. But she’d come to him with very little and he’d nothing to offer her except his oversized breeches and shirts. She remained rooted to the spot and he approached her with a carefree attitude, hoping it would dampen down his more ardent nature.
