TO MARRY THE DEVIL BY TERRI MACKENZIE – eBook Details Online
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- Authors: Terri Mackenzie
- Language: English
- Genre: Historical Romance
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- Size: 2 MB
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January 25th 1814
Lord Jacob Barrington crawled out of the ditch that held his curricle and
took stock of the situation. Groaning, Mrs Clarissa Bentley also extracted
herself from the splintered wood, and he extended a lazy hand to her.
“How gentlemanlike of you,” she said with a trace of irony.
“For you, my dear? Anything.”
“You could have not taken the corner too fast and upturned the
carriage,” she said impatiently, but he was already striding towards the
horses, examining them with a critical eye marred slightly by the fact he
was, as it happened, somewhat drunk.
“Damn,” he said as he noted one of the horses had twisted its fetlock.
“Riding home is out then, I suppose.”
Clarissa sighed. “I suppose I should have known better than to accept
the Devil’s offer of company.”
“You should,” he agreed. People often said that about him. He was
known as the Devil of St James, which meant that most who involved
themselves with him grew to wish they had not.
Two years ago, Clarissa had been unfortunate enough to marry a
gentleman many years her senior, and fortunate enough to see him buried
within six months. Now, she was a rather fast widow, and Jacob offered her
company and entertainment with no expectations. Both things she provided,
to an extent, in return.
“And yet,” she said, “I still chose to accompany you.”
“A poor decision.”
“I should have known better.”
“I quite agree.” He freed the horses and looked at the curricle again.
One of the wheels had detached entirely and the other had shattered spokes;
the seat was, regrettably, pierced by a shard of wood they were lucky had
not impaled them too. All in all, the chances of getting this particular
carriage fixed were small. Especially at the side of an empty country road.
Of course, it was unfortunate they had crashed. But considering he’d
stolen Cecil’s horses and carriage, he didn’t feel burdened with the cost of
replacing them.
He would, however, arrange to have the remainder of the curricle towed
back to his brother, as a token of goodwill. That would be sure to get a
reaction. After twenty-six years of less-than-cordial rivalry and being the
inferior brother, baiting Cecil was as much habit as inclination.
“Well?” Clarissa asked, her arms folded and her eyebrows raised. Her
bonnet had all but fallen off her head and her gloves were muddy. “What
are you going to do?”
“Regretfully, I am not going to ravish you on the blanket I had procured
specifically for the occasion.”
“Regretfully?” She looked at him in exasperation. “If you had thoughts
of ravishment in mind, you would have done better to visit my house.
Where there is a bed.”
“Then where would be the adventure?” he mocked.
“Between the sheets. Or perhaps on the floor. Against the wall. There
are plenty of places the more adventurous of us might look.”
“And yet it lacks a certain something,” he murmured, looking at the
empty road. London was not far away, but they were surrounded by green
hedges and fields, with not another soul in sight. “I believe we are going to
have to avail ourselves of a stranger’s generosity,” he said. “We passed a
farm a mile or two back.”
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