The land from whence he had come, and his father before him, and his father’s father before that, back generations—too many to count.
The land he had lost and vowed to regain.
At any cost.
Even marriage.
“You cannot simply carry me off like . . . like . . . a sheep!”
His stride broke for a split second. “A sheep?”
She paused, obviously rethinking the comparison. “Don’t farmers carry sheep over their shoulders?”
“I have never seen such a thing, but you’ve lived in the country longer than I, so . . . if you say I am treating you like a sheep, so be it.”
“You evidently do not care that I feel as though I have been ill-treated.”
“If it is any comfort, I do not plan to shear you.”
“It’s no comfort at all, in fact,” she said tartly. “I will tell you once more! Put. Me. Down!” She squirmed again, nearly slithering out of his grasp, one foot coming dangerously close to connecting with a valuable portion of his anatomy.
He grunted and tightened his grasp. “Stop it.” He lifted one hand and spanked her once, firmly, on her bottom.
She went board stiff at the action.
“You did not . . . I cannot . . . You hit me!”
He flung open the rear door to the Falconwell kitchens and marched her inside. Placing his lantern on a nearby table, he set her down at the center of the dark room. “You’re wearing half a dozen layers of clothing and a winter cloak. I’m surprised you felt it at all.”
Penelope’s eyes flashed with fury. “Nevertheless, a gentleman would never dream of . . . of . . .”
He watched her flounder for the word, enjoying her discomfort, finally offering, “I believe the word you are looking for is ‘spanking.’ ”
Her eyes went wide at the word. “Yes. That. Gentlemen don’t . . .”
“First, I thought we’d already established that I am not a gentleman. That ship sailed long ago. And second, you’d be surprised what gentlemen do . . . and what ladies enjoy.”
“Not this lady. You owe me an apology.”
“I would not hold my breath waiting for it.” He heard her little gasp as he moved across the kitchen to the place where he’d left a bottle of scotch earlier in the evening. “Would you like a drink?”
“No, thank you.”
“So polite.”
“One of us should be, don’t you think?”
He turned to face her, half-amused and half-surprised by her smart mouth.
She was not tall, barely the height of his shoulder, but at the moment she looked like an Amazon.
The hood of her cloak had fallen away, and her hair was in disarray, tumbling around her shoulders, gleaming pale blond in the dim light. Her chin was thrust forward in a universal sign of defiance, her shoulders were stiff and straight, and her chest rose and fell with harsh anger, swelling beneath her cloak.
She looked as though she’d like to do him no small amount of bodily harm.
“This is kidnapping.”
He took a long pull on the bottle, enjoying her look of shock at his behavior as he wiped the back of his hand across his lips and met her gaze. He remained quiet, enjoying the way his silence set her on edge.
After a long moment, she announced, “You cannot kidnap me!”
“As I said outside, I have no intention of kidnapping you.” He leaned forward until his face was on a level with hers. “I intend to marry you, darling.”
She stared at him for a long moment. “I am leaving.”
“No, you are not.”
“I’m not restrained. I could leave if I tried.”
“Restraints are for amateurs.” He leaned back against the sideboard. “I encourage you to try.”
She cast an uncertain look at him before shrugging one shoulder and heading for the door. He blocked her exit. She stopped. “I realize you’ve been out of society for quite some time, but you cannot simply abduct your neighbors.”
“As I said, this is not an abduction.”
“Well, whatever it is,” she said peevishly, “it isn’t done.”
“I should think you would have noticed by now that I care very little for what is done.”
She considered the words for a moment. “You should.”
There was a hazy familiarity in the way she stood, stick straight, instructing him in proper behavior. “There she is.”
“Who?”
“The Penelope from my childhood. So concerned with propriety. You haven’t changed at all.”
She lifted her chin. “That’s not true.”
“No?”
“Not at all. I’m quite changed. Entirely different.”
“How?”
“I—” she started, then stopped, and he wondered what she was about to say. “I just am. Now let me go.” She moved to push past him. When he did not move, she stopped, unwilling to touch him.
A pity. The memory of the warmth of her gloved hand on his cold cheek flashed. Apparently her behavior outside had been the product of surprise.
And pleasure.