Honoria looked into his narrowed eyes, then haughtily lifted her chin from his hold. "I have my reasons."
"Which are?"
She shot him a resigned glance. "Because you are who you are for a start."
His frown turned black. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Honoria struggled to her feet-instantly, his hand was there to help. He followed her up. She bent and picked up the rug. "You're a tyrant, an unmitigated autocrat, utterly used to your own way. But that's beside the point." The folded rug in her arms, she faced him. "I have no ambition to wed-not you, not any man."
She met his gaze and held it; he continued to frown. "Why not?" The demand, this time, was less aggressive.
Honoria swiped up her parasol and started toward the curricle. "My reason is my own and not one I need share with you." He was a duke-dukes required heirs. Reaching the curricle, she glanced back-basket in hand, he was trailing in her wake, his expression frowningly intent. When he stopped in front of her, she looked him in the eye. "Please understand, I won't change my mind."
He held her gaze for an instant, then he reached for the rug, tossed it into the boot, and swung the basket after it. Letting down the flap, he followed her to the side of the carriage. Honoria turned and waited; she caught her breath as his hands slid about her waist.
They firmed, but he didn't lift her. Suddenly breathless, Honoria looked up-into crystal green eyes that belonged to a conqueror.
He held her, held her gaze, for a full minute, before saying: "We have a standoff, it seems, Honoria Prudence."
Honoria attempted a look of hauteur. "Indeed?"
His lips lengthened, compressed to a line. "Indeed-for I have no intention of changing my mind, either."
For one finite instant, Honoria met his gaze, then she raised her brows and looked away.
Jaw clenched, Devil lifted her to the carriage seat, then followed her up. A minute later, they were back on the road; he let his horses have their heads, the whipping wind soothing his overheated brain. Possessiveness had never gripped him so hard, never sunk its talons so deep. Fate had given her to him, to have and to hold. He would have her-take her to wife-there was no alternative.
She had a reason, she said-one she wouldn't tell him. So he'd find out and eradicate it. It was that or go mad.
Chapter 9
"Yes?" Devil looked up from a ledger as Webster entered the library.
"Chatham just rode in, Your Grace-the gentleman you were expecting is waiting as directed."
"Good." Shutting the ledger, Devil stood. "Where is Miss Anstruther-Wetherby?"
"I believe she's in the rose garden, Your Grace."
"Excellent." Devil headed for the door. "I'm going riding, Webster. I'll be back in an hour with our guest."
"Very good, Your Grace."
Two grooms ran up as Devil strode into the stable yard. "Saddle up the bay and get Melton to saddle Sulieman."
"Ah-we've not sighted Melton since early, Y'r Grace."
Devil raised his eyes to the skies. "Never mind-I'll get Sulieman. You fig out the bay."
When he led Sulieman into the yard, the bay was waiting. Mounting, Devil accepted the bay's reins and rode out. Six days had passed since Honoria had dispatched her summons to her brother.
Cresting a low rise, he saw a carriage halted in the road ahead, one of his grooms chatting to the coachman. Beside the carriage, a gentleman paced impatiently. Devil's eyes narrowed, then he sent Sulieman down the road.
The gentleman glanced up at the sound of hooves. He straightened, head rising, chin tilting to an angle Devil recognized instantly. Drawing rein, he raised a brow. "Michael Anstruther-Wetherby, I presume?"
The answering nod was curt. "St. Ives." Michael Anstruther-Wetherby was in his mid-twenties, of athletic build, with the same steady assurance, the same directness, that characterized his sister. Used to sizing men up in an instant, Devil rapidly readjusted his image of his prospective brother-in-law. Honoria's smugness had painted her brother as weaker than she, perhaps lacking the true Anstruther-Wetherby character. Yet the man eyeing him straitly, challenge and skepticism very clear in his blue eyes, had a decidedly purposeful chin. Devil smiled. "I believe we have matters to discuss. I suggest we take a ride beyond the reach of interruptions."
The blue eyes, arrested, held his, then Michael nodded. "An excellent idea." He reached for the bay's reins, then he was in the saddle. "If you can guarantee no interruptions, you'll have achieved a first."