Free Dangerous to Hold by Elizabeth Thornton Page A

been struck speechless. “No sense taking two carriages when I have to pass your door to reach our destination. I met McNally on my way in and I told him not to bother with the buggy. I hope you don’t mind?”
    As if on cue, McNally entered and stood to one side beaming up at her. From the upstairs landing, Mrs. McNally watched with a bemused smile. Catherine descended the stairs and took a moment to draw on her gloves. For the benefit of anyone who might be eavesdropping, she said coolly, “And does your wife go with us this evening, Lord Wrotham?”
    “My wife?”
    “Lady Wrotham,” Catherine prompted. She glanced meaningfully at McNally, then at Mrs. McNally. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting her.”
    “Ah, no. Perhaps next time.”
    The silence sagged with the weight of disappointed hopes. Satisfied that her servants had taken the point, Catherine sailed out the front door.
    As soon as Marcus entered the carriage, he said, “That was a fine piece of horseflesh I saw McNally leading into your stable as I arrived. He tells me you stable it for a neighbor who is visiting America.”
    “It’s hardly a visit. Admiral Collins will be away for a year, if not longer.”
    “So you have the use of the mare?”
    “Why do you ask?”
    “I thought we might go riding together sometime.”
    It wasn’t hard to see where this was leading. He must have seen her riding in Spain. Was he testing her, still trying to determine whether or not she was Catalina?
    “I do have the use of Vixen,” she said, “but I’m afraid I don’t much care for riding.” She thought of her wild midnight rides across the heath, when there was no one there to see her, and she turned her head away to conceal the laughter in her eyes.
    “Then who exercises the mare?”
    Did the man never give up? “McNally, mostly, though I do take her out once in a while.” Before he could probe further, she said, “You deliberately invited yourself to this party because you knew I’d be there.”
    “True,” said Marcus.
    “How did you know the Lowries were my friends?”
    “You mentioned them in passing, last time we met. Don’t you remember?”
    Now that he mentioned it, she did remember, and she cursed herself for her stupidity. Her lashes swept down and she took a moment to compose herself. As far as possible, she should be herself, but she mustn’t provoke or challenge him. And most of all, she mustn’t let him see how utterly she hated him.
    She looked at him steadily. “You’re hounding me, my lord. I don’t like it. What is it you want from me?”
    One brow shot up and he let out a quick laugh. “More than either of us has bargained for, but I’d rather not go into that right now. You puzzle me, Catherine. There are so many questions about you that remain unanswered. I can’t get you out of my mind.”
    “And if I answer your questions, do you promise to leave me alone?”
    There was a heartbeat of silence, then he shrugged and folded his arms across his chest. “If that’s what you want.”
    How could he doubt it? She nodded, took a deep breath, and said calmly, “What is it you want to know?”
    “Have you ever slept with a man?” He couldn’t resist it. He had to try shaking up her composure.
    Her head whipped up, and when she saw the grin on his face, she exploded. “You crude oaf! I should have expected something like that from you! Have you no manners?”
    He caught her wrist as she reached for the door handle and he yanked her back. “It was a forlorn hope,” he told her, laughing.
    She shook off his hand. “A forlorn hope? What does that mean?”
    He shrugged. “You live alone. You travel without benefit of chaperon in a closed carriage with a gentleman of—so you say—unsavory reputation. In my circles, that usually means the lady is open to, shall we say—suggestion?”
    “I, thank God, do not move in your circles. I’ve never required a chaperon until I met you. I’m not a highborn lady, Lord Wrotham.