“Yes. He was in quite a good mood until I produced the money. And then suddenly he began to insult me. He never has before. He’s been arrogant, but not insulting.”
“He dresses very fine for an estate manager,” Nash observed after a moment. “Bit of a ladies’ man, is he?”
“Perhaps, but he’s never shown any interest of that sort in me. He must know I’d never consider such a thing. Though if he thought I had such an arrangement with your uncle . . .”
Nash raised himself on his elbow. “But his original plan was to evict you. That’s what I don’t understand. If he was charging extra rent and pocketing the difference, why evict you?”
“A lesson to others?”
“Possibly, but Harris wasn’t the only one trying to drive you away.”
Maddy sat up in bed, pulling the bedclothes around her. “You think Harris is the Bloody Abbot?” It made sense, and yet . . . “How would he benefit from a vacant cottage?”
She could almost feel his shrug as he said, “It’s a mystery. How long have you lived here?”
“Not quite eighteen months. It was vacant and quite tumble-down. The children and I had to clean it up and whitewash it.”
“You didn’t find any secret hidey holes or hidden trap-doors?”
“Nothing. Not even a loose floorboard. I assure you, if there was any hidden treasure here we would have found it.”
They lay staring at each other across the darkened room, pondering the problem. The darkness seemed to thicken.
Their last night together and they lay on opposite sides of the room discussing a crooked estate manager and hidden trap-doors.
Maddy sat with the bedclothes huddled around her, willing him to rise from his bed and come to her.
Nash shifted. She tensed.
He lay back down and said, “Well, whatever it is, we can investigate further in the morning. I’ll get the story out of him one way or another.”
Maddy reluctantly slid back down in her bed. It wasn’t Harris she was worrying about.
She lay listening to the wind in the trees. Sleep was still no closer. She was too aware of the man at the hearth.
Maddy’s dream, back when she was a girl, was to fall deeply, madly, wholly in love. To be swept off her feet, and to walk down the aisle toward a man who waited with love shining from his eyes.
She gazed at Nash’s silhouette, limned by the glow of the fire. Had he ever dreamed of love? Why make a practical arrangement when you didn’t have to? The Honorable Nash Renfrew had all the choices in the world. Even as plain Mr. Rider of just around the corner, he’d have no trouble finding a wife, no trouble finding love.
He wouldn’t have to look very far, either.
But he was not plain Mr. Rider and he never would be. A marriage between them was out of the question. She’d spend the rest of her life in the bed of an old man . . . and here was the man of her dreams, lying uncomfortably on her cold, hard floor.
But she could love him, just once, for one night. Couldn’t she? Her reputation was already ruined.
What did she have to lose? Only her virginity. Her heart was already lost to him. She stared across the room at Nash’s profile. His last night here. Her last chance.
Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb.
“Are you cold?” she whispered into the darkness.
“A bit, why?” The question hung in the air.
“You can sleep here if you like. With me.” There, she’d said it.
There was a long pause. She wondered if he’d heard. Then the deep voice came out of the darkness. “If I sleep there with you, I won’t be able to resist.”
Maddy swallowed. “I don’t want you to resist.”
