Page 87 of The Cornish Inheritance

“And so do I.”

*

Hetty and Natwent to sit with their ailing grandfather, while Caroline repaired to the walled garden. He was not her grandfather, and if he had little time left, then they should be allowed to spend it with him in peace. Bridget had already left, and there was no sign of Trefusis anywhere, so she felt it safe to leave Yves with Patience again, once more with strict orders to stay with him.

With her head in a whirl after Nat’s offer, she wandered the narrow gravel paths until she reached the rosebush her mother had favored and shared, all unknowing, with Nat’s own long-dead mother. Some of the blooms were going over and in need of deadheading. She’d have to ask the gardener to attend to it tomorrow. Too late now, as he must have finished work and gone home for his supper. She chose one of the newer blooms and, having pinched out the thorns, settled it in the bosom of her dress, its heady fragrance wafting to her nostrils. Her handy spare hairpin held it in position.

What would Mama say to this, a proposal at her age? She’d be so pleased, as she’d probably given up on her only daughter ever marrying. What if she said yes to Nat, and he allowed Mama to come here to live with them? Would that not be perfect—just as she’d always wanted? And if she and Nat had children, Mama would be overjoyed to be so close to her grandchildren. Already, in her head, Caroline could see a brood of small children with Nat’s deep-blue eyes running about here in the garden while she gathered roses. But being at last able to help her mother was no reason for matrimony.

Did she love him? Did she feel as Morvoren so obviously felt for Kit? Did she think of him every moment of the day? Well, yes, she did, now she came to think about it. How odd. Did she fear that if she said no, she’d never see him again? And the answer to that was yes as well. Did her heart leap whenever he walked into the room? Did it ache now she was away from him? Yes, and yes again. Did she have an inexplicable feeling of pure desire coursing through her body when she thought of him? Yes, again, only this might be put down to baser feelings of lust rather than purely love. However, from talking to Morvoren, who seemed well informed on matters of love, this, too, was a kind of love.

So perhaps she did love him. The fact that it had come upon her this suddenly had stunned her with shock. Of course, she’d read romance novels in which the hero and heroine fell in love at first sight, but she hadn’t thought it possible in real life. Although, really, she hadn’t done so quite on first sight when he’d seemed so aloof and bad-tempered and a possible suspect in an attempted murder. But, soon after, she’d begun to fall for his charms, well-hidden as they were.

She stopped in the far corner of the garden where a small wooden gazebo sheltered against the high stone walls, open on one side and with cushioned seats around the other three. Yes, she would tell him yes. She would marry the man she loved.

Trefusis stepped out of the shadows of the gazebo.

Caroline retreated a step, one hand to her throat.

Trefusis glowered at her, but there was more to his expression than anger. There was lust. Hot, vengeful lust. Not like the lust in Nat’s eyes, born of love. No. This was born of anger and a need for revenge.

Caroline’s heart leapt with fear. If she ran, he would catch her, hampered as she was by her long skirts, and there was no one in the garden to come to her aid. No one, even, in earshot. She swallowed. She had to brazen this out. “What are you doing in here?” She injected as much cold superiority into her tone as she could.

His lip curled. “You interfering nobody. Spying on me and plotting against me. Pretending you were meek and mild and all the while with your eye on the fortune for yourself. You’ve spoilt everything. Your lovely Nat’s thrown me out, and it’s all your fault.”

Caroline could feel her heart hammering in her throat, but she wasn’t going to let him see that. “On the contrary, you are the architect of your own demise.” She was amazed at how calm she sounded, and it instilled more confidence in her.

“Your clever words will get you nowhere. You’ve deprived me of Hetty’s ripe young body and the fortune that should be mine, and now you’ve got your claws into that upstart soldier boy, you think you’ve won. Well, you haven’t. I’ll be having the last laugh here.” In one swift movement he lunged forwards and grabbed Caroline’s wrist, swinging her body to crush up against his own, his other hand going to her breast and squeezing hard.

For a moment, Caroline had no idea what to do. His grip on her breast hurt. His thick-lipped, moist mouth moved toward hers, intent on stealing more than a kiss, that was for certain. His other hand had seized her posterior in a vicelike grip, pressing her body up hard against his evident arousal. Instinct told her she was on her own, and her actions now would either condemn her to his lusts or save her. She went limp in his arms, a sizeable weight for him to hold up, and he swore as she sagged away from him.

In that instant, when he was least expecting any fight from her, she slid the long hairpin from where it had been holding the now crushed rose to her bodice and stabbed at his face. She wasn’t aiming for any particular part of it, but as he moved, so did his face, and the pin jabbed hard into his left eye, stabbing like a sword thrust.

He let out a blood-curdling scream and dropped Caroline to the gravel path, his hands clawing at his eye.

She didn’t wait to see if she’d killed him, which she rather hoped she had. Instead, she scrambled to her feet and ran, her feet scrunching on the gravel, one shoe gone, aware that this was her only opportunity to escape. However, no sound of pursuit followed her. He must be in agony. She scrabbled for the gate latch, glancing over her shoulder, but he’d gone. Where, she didn’t wait to see. Instead, she flung open the gate and bolted for the house.

A very surprised Ennion greeted her in the hall. She grabbed his hand. “Where is Mr. Nathaniel?”

“Upstairs, Miss. He went to change out of his dirty clothes.”

Caroline raced up the stairs, careless of Ennion’s disapproving expression, and along the gallery to Nat’s bedroom door. She didn’t wait to knock but threw it open and stepped inside.

Nat was standing by his washstand wearing only his breeches, his hair and face dripping with water as he turned to look at her.

“Yes,” she burst out. “The answer is yes, I’ll marry you. And I’ve just stabbed Trefusis in the eye.”

“What?” Nat’s eyes widened. “Not ‘what’ to your answer of yes, but ‘what’ to the fact that you’ve stabbed Trefusis.”

Caroline ran across the room into his arms, careless of his near nakedness. If she were to marry him, she’d soon be seeing that every day. Something she relished perhaps more than was proper. He smelled a little of sweat but mostly of soap. “He was in the walled garden where I went to think. The man had the cheek to try to assault me. So I stabbed him. I think I’ve probably blinded him.”

“He tried to assault you?” Nat struggled in her grasp. “I’ll kill him.”

She hung on tight. “No. You don’t need to. I did it for myself. I’m not some milksop woman who needs a man to fight her battles. I think you’ll find a hairpin jabbed in his eye will cause him far more problems than a beating from you would.”

He stopped struggling. “You firebrand. I was right when I said you were a lioness.”

She laughed. “Kiss me, then, if I’m to be your wife.”

She offered up her lips, and Nat bent his head to hers. “We’d best make it soon,” he said. “For I don’t think I can wait long to have you in my bed.”

She pressed up against his evident arousal. “I feel the same.” She ran her hands down the skin of his back and felt his cock leap to attention against her stomach. “Do we have to wait?”

His arms held her tight against him. “I’m afraid we do, my little lioness.”