Page 6 of Border Lord’s Bride

Again her gaze met his, and this time he saw something that hadn't been there before: fear. "Your family paid my father's debts. There is no possible way for us to pay you back. And no other future for me."

He turned away from her and walked behind his father's desk. His desk now, he amended. "Keep the money. I don't need it."

"That cannot be done."

" 'Tis a business arrangement. We shall make another one where you cry off and I make a gift of the funds to your family."

"If this marriage does not go through, I'll be destitute," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He hardened his heart to the sweet sound of her voice, which made his every nerve stand on end. "I don't care what becomes of you, just as you did not care about my feelings that day in the garden when I caught you and Marcus together."

"You saw what you wanted to see. Marcus surprised me. I did not return his kiss." She clutched her hands together, yet he noted how her fingers trembled regardless.

"You appeared to be enjoying yourself."

She remained silent.

"I would have stayed away from here forever."

She brought her gaze to his. "Then why did you come back?"

"Because I care what happens to my sisters."

"So do I." She straightened, and all her nervousness vanished. "You might think I have nothing to offer you in this marriage, but I do. I have many connections with the local clans. I can use those connections to help your sisters make agreeable matches. Without such guidance, they will likely end up in miserable situations or not married at all, and become old maids. Is that what you want for them?"

Cold, dark fury ate away at him as he glared at the woman who had fallen for his brother instead of him.

Despite his angry assault, her features softened. "No one asked you if you wanted this, Lucius, I understand that. No one asked me either. Marcus and my father swore to honor the pact. Not us."

He released a harsh breath. "So what are we to do? How do we undo what others have done?"

"We honor the betrothal."

"That is not acceptable."

"You've just arrived home. Will you not think on this for even one night? Please, Lucius, I beg of you."

"Is that why you came tonight instead of tomorrow? To force me into this decision all the sooner?"

Elizabeth paled. "I came because my father made me. As I am of no further use to him, he wanted me gone."

Lucius frowned. Obviously much had changed between Elizabeth and her father since her mother had died six years ago. "Very well," he said. "We will leave things as they are for tonight. But in the next four days I shall make you see all the reasons this marriage should not go through." He turned away, thinking he had the last words.

"And I have four days to make you see it should."

Chapter Three

The blackguard has come home. Horatio Carr thrummed his fingers against the stout table in the common room of the Beardsman Inn, where he'd been forced to lodge. He should have been in the master's chamber at Midwick Manor instead of at this lowly inn on the outskirts of Newcastleton.

Why hadn't the French eliminated Lucius as they had his brother Peter? Better the French take the young heir than that the killing fall to him. But now he'd be forced into the deed if he wanted what should have rightfully been his: Midwick Manor and the earldom.

All around him the din of many conversations added a sense of confusion. He pressed his fingers against his temples in an attempt to gather his thoughts. He needed a plan.

Horatio frowned down into the empty mug that had only a short while ago been filled with ale. How could he force the boy back toward the Templars? If his nephew renounced the title, everything would fall into place. Then Horatio could begin his future as the Earl of Carrick. At the thought, his chest warmed. It had been so long since he had the kind of respect he deserved. How could being born a mere two minutes behind his brother separate the heir from the spare? Damn the system that had denied him his due.

Horatio increased the pressure of his fingers against his forehead. He'd already stolen away most of the staff in hopes the estate would cease to function. He hadn't expected the servants who'd remained to increase their efforts tenfold to keep that from happening. Though the estate was not thriving, it limped along. He could afford to cripple the estate during the winter season. But he would have to succeed by the growing season, or the failure of the estate would become his problem.

Time was of the essence here.