'If you wish me to continue to converse with you, James, then kindly stop lathering your conversation with unnecessary endearments. We're only betrothed to avoid a scandal; I've no intention of pretending to be enamoured of you and you've no necessity to do so either.'
He continued to snip efficiently whilst they were having this ridiculous exchange. He reached over her shoulders – he was one of few men who could do that easily – and detached the remaining twigs and brambles from her person. She was now free to move forward if she so wished.
'If I wish to sprinkle such terms throughout our conversation then I shall do so. I am master in my own house and as no doubt you've already noticed I do exactly as I please with complete disregard for anyone else's feelings or wishes. And I have no intention of changing.'
He said this with such authority that for a horrible moment she thought he was serious. Then she saw the twinkle in his eyes.
'I heartily dislike you, Lord Brotherton, kindly complete your work before I expire from the boredom of being obliged to listen to you. Which reminds me, you've yet to eat your best waistcoat.'
His laugh was infectious and she joined in. She was no longer cross with him. He was a very contrary gentleman who one minute made her want to hit him with something large and heavy and the next to be in his arms.
So shocked was she by this unexpected thought that she leaned away from him as if he might suddenly reach in and pounce on her. With a despairing cry she began to topple backwards and would have been enmeshed once more if he hadn't caught her arms in time.
He lifted her easily from the remaining tangle and to her consternation didn't replace her on her feet. He adjusted his hold so he was carrying her cradled against his chest. His heart was thudding; she could feel it through his clothes. She wanted to tell him to put her down immediately but for some reason the words wouldn't form in her mouth.
'I intend to carry you back to the house. I can either do it this way or throw you over my shoulder like a sack of corn. It's up to you.'
She didn't answer, she couldn't. Instead, she relaxed and rested her scratched cheek against his shoulder. 'I'm too heavy, you'll drop me before we get there,' she finally mumbled.
'You weigh scarcely anything; I can assure you that I won't.'
'Have I told you that I really don't like you, sir, and wish I'd never met you?'
'I expect so, my love, but it makes no difference. I have laid claim to you and you might as well accept your fate.'
Finally, she roused. She pushed herself away from him so she could stare into his face which was disconcertingly close to hers. 'What do you mean? I thought we'd agreed this was a false betrothal, that in September I'd be free of you.'
'You said that, but you will recall that I made no response. Eventually, I'd have had to go on the marriage mart and find myself a suitable bride and now you've saved me that hideous experience.'
'Why me? What about Colette? You've not met my younger sister Lucille as yet. How do you know they wouldn't suit you better?' She grabbed his collar and tugged it almost choking him. 'Good heavens, we're barely acquainted. This idea's quite impossible and you know it.'
His wicked smile sent spirals of heat from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. 'I'm content with the young lady that I've chosen. You're beautiful, intelligent, kind and will make me a perfect wife.'
'I won't. You forgot to mention that I'm disobedient, obstinate and have complete disregard for convention and fashion. A marriage between us will be a disaster. You know that as well as I do.'
'It won't because I'll ensure that it isn't. It will be a lively union whilst we adjust to each other —'
Sofia threw herself backwards and only by his quick reactions did her actions not lead to her landing heavily on the ground.
'Adjust? It is I you'd expect to do all the adjusting, you'll continue to behave as you've always done, do what you want, and my wishes will be of no importance to you.'
If she'd stopped there then things might have ended differently.
'What you feel for me is desire. I find you attractive too. I'd much rather be your mistress than your wife and I'm sure that would suit you better too.'
He released her arm as if it was red-hot, raked her from head to toe with such disdain she wished the ground would open and swallow her.
'I've no need for a mistress, what I want is a wife. I can now see that you're not who I thought you were. I'm disappointed in your character.'
He nodded formally, turned his back and strode away leaving her bedraggled and bemused in the middle of the acreage of grass wishing the words unsaid.
Then she regained her composure, straightened her shoulders, raised her head and walked briskly to the house. He'd gone up the flight of marble steps that led to the terrace whilst she detoured to the side door.
Her cheeks were wet, she was crushed. Until that moment she hadn't realised that he'd become someone whose opinion mattered. She'd ruined everything and could see no way of restoring the friendship – if that was what it had been.
