Barons Always Win Wagers (Forbidden Kisses Book 3) Read online

  Lord Bracken snorted. “Is there not enough trouble in this world?” he asked. “Well, if you wish to bring more by involving women, I cannot stop you. Follow me.”

  Emma had never encountered such a rude man in all her life, titled or untitled. At least the highwayman had not put forth a friendly demeanor before he had tried to rob them!

  The hallways lacked portraits or paintings of any kind, or any form of decoration for that matter - if one did not count the spiderwebs strung up in corners as decoration. Emma could not help but wonder what other types of creatures inhabited the house.

  Then she scrunched her brow. Besides her, the baron, and Stephen, not a single soul was about. No servants bustling with their tasks, no butler to answer the door. No one. It should not have surprised her after observing the abandoned appearance of the place. The man truly was a recluse.

  “Please, take a seat on the couch; it is the finest and most comfortable.”

  Emma studied the room and tried to conceal her disgust. The windows were covered in dirt, and the furniture, what little there was, had not been whisked in a very long time. Even the camp was better kept. Yet, it was not her place to judge the man, and so she took a seat beside Stephen, careful to sit as close to the edge as possible. She did not want to soil her skirts.

  “Brandy?” Lord Bracken asked.

  “Please,” replied Stephen.

  “I also have wine for the lady.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Emma said with a nod.

  A few moments later, the man came and handed them their drinks, and Emma was thankful that at least the glass was clean.

  “It comes from the vineyards of France,” Lord Bracken said. “I think you will enjoy it.”

  Emma went to thank him, but as his finger touched hers, she felt an odd jolt move up her arm. Unable to speak, she simply smiled, which caused the man to grin. Then he went to the only chair and sat.

  “Now, what is this business of which you wish to speak?”

  “As you may know, when Lady Dewhirst died, my wife and I gained guardianship over her son, Charles, as well as his estate until he reaches the age to take it over himself. Until then, we are raising the boy as our own.”

  “An unfortunate death,” Lord Bracken said. “The boy is happy and of good health?”

  “He is. It is for that reason I have come here. I’m looking to extend his land holdings and wished to speak to you about your land.”

  Lord Bracken laughed. “I see. You come bearing gifts in the form of your sister-in-law?”

  Emma gasped. The man had been rude before, but this was far more deplorable.

  “I did not mean it as you think,” Lord Bracken said. “What Chambers has done, many men do. A young, innocent woman is meant to sway my thinking with her beauty.”

  Drunk or not, Emma respected the insight of the baron in seeing through their ruse. He also thought her beautiful, and that brought a warming sensation to her insides.

  “Contrary to what you may have heard,” he continued, “I’m no fool and do not wish to be treated as one, especially in my own home.”

  “My apologies,” Stephen said. “You are correct in my reason for Emma being here. If you wish her to leave, I will understand. She can wait in the carriage if you would prefer.”

  Lord Bracken finished off the rest of his brandy in one gulp. “No, she is welcome to stay as long as she desires. But you may as well know before we get too far into our discussion that I have no wish to sell any of my land, now or ever.”

  Emma frowned. He had not even waited to learn how much Stephen would offer him. Then Constance’s words came to her. She could make him change his mind, so she smiled, prolonging the motion, and batted her eyelashes, a sure trick to get any man to change his mind. Sally had advised Constance as much a year earlier.

  “It is my understanding,” Stephen replied, “that this land has been in your family for over a hundred years.”

  “That is true.”

  “I also understand the reluctance in wanting to sell, for I imagine you have many memories here. However, I must stress that I do not want to buy your estate, nor all of your land. I only want the portion that includes the beck that flows through it.”

  Lord Bracken ran his fingers through his hair and turned his gaze on Emma, who, in her uneasiness, took a sip of her wine. “I’m sorry, but I still must refuse.”

  “Would you consider the possibility at some other point?” Stephen asked.

  The baron did not take his eyes off Emma, and she found it difficult to maintain that gaze. He was so terribly handsome, and she found breathing difficult.

  “There is always a possibility of anything,” the man replied. Then relief washed over Emma as he turned back to Stephen. “However, at this moment, I must politely decline.” He rose to refill his glass.

  Stephen stood. Was he giving up so quickly? It was not like him to do so, not when he had anything in his sights. “I understand,” he said with a polite nod. “Thank you for allowing us into your home today.”

  “It’s nice to have company,” Lord Bracken replied. When he turned his gaze on Emma once more, she could not stop the smile from forming on her lips. “Allow me to walk you to the door.”

  They followed the baron back down the hallway from where they had entered, where he opened the front door for them. Stephen stepped outside first, but when Emma went to follow, Lord Bracken’s fingers grazed her forearm.

  “Goodbye, Miss Emma,” he whispered.

  “G-goodbye, my lord,” she replied. Why were the man’s fingers so calloused? And why did such a simple touch send her heart racing?

  Without another word, he closed the door, and Emma followed Stephen to the carriage.

  Once they were inside the vehicle and on their way, Stephen said, “The man is crafty. I will speak to him again once we return from London and have more time to talk sense into him. He was much too inebriated to think rationally, in my opinion.”

  “He must have some sort of weakness,” Emma said, tapping a finger to her lips in thought.

  “Most definitely,” Stephen replied. “Games of chance. In particular, cards. Unfortunately, I’m not a very skilled player.”

  Emma nodded. Though he was not an accomplished player, she was. In fact, she was so good it had caused Constance to worry on more than one occasion.

  Living in the camp had only made it worse, for so many of the woodspeople enjoyed a good game of cards. Too often Constance had to order Emma to keep away from the gaming, but no one showed much concern, even when she won a majority of the hands. Rather most of the men found it curious that a woman could be a better player than they.

  Then an idea so grand came to mind that she bit at her lip to conceal her excitement. No man of title, no matter how much he enjoyed a good card game, would play with a woman for high stakes. Yet, he had grinned at her in a way that said he may make an exception.

  If she were to call on Lord Bracken while Stephen and Constance were in London, and if she smiled for him and batted her eyelashes when Stephen was not around, the man would beg to sell his land. She could have the land deed Stephen so desperately wanted in hand before he and Constance returned from London!

  Doing so would prove her as worthy as her sisters and also relieve Stephen of at least one of the many burdens he was forced to carry. It would be just the sort of game a woman could play that would allow an adventure in itself.

  “You are smiling,” Stephen said. “I cannot fathom a reason for it, for I failed this day.”

  “You did not fail. One only fails when they no longer make an attempt. I’m sure there will be another way to get what you want.”

  When Stephen replied with a smile, a plan began to formulate in Emma’s mind.

  Chapter Two

  Lord Michael Bracken did not receive many guests, nor did he want any. There was solitude in loneliness. He preferred his time spent with his brandy, for which there was always plenty, and it brought him comfort.

&nbs
p; Many believed him a hermit, but the truth was that he chose his outings with care, which only gave the illusion he was homebound. And he wished to keep it that way. The more people who believed this of him, the fewer who bothered him. Too many only came to call to garner bits of information for their gossip, to learn if he had truly killed his own wife. Well, let them continue to guess!

  He had only accepted the request of Lord Chambers to call on him merely to assuage his curiosity for the new family who had taken over the estate that once belonged to Lady Dewhurst. Despite his sequestered life, he did listen to whatever gossip came his way through various avenues, and the latest had been that this new family had several daughters of marrying age that possessed great beauty.

  Of course, he had been skeptical, for all women thought they were beautiful, but upon seeing Miss Emma Shepherd he saw for himself that the rumors were true. When his finger had touched hers - it had been intentional, of course - her reddened cheeks only heightened her beauty.

  That simple touch had caused the woman to tremble and rouse her curiosity, and when she had stuttered her response, he knew he had won, for such a reaction had any woman returning for more. Be it a minute or a day or a week, it did not matter. She would return for more, for he had seen the desire in her eyes. Perhaps not for him personally, but for the touch of a man.

  It had been her smile that stirred a deep desire within him, a desire that would cause a man to go mad unless it was quenched.

  It was not that he could not have any woman he desired in his arms, for many had found their way to his bed at the veritable cornucopia of parties held by the ton, secret parties where one could find plenty of women of low morals who were also of high station.

  His rationale for being with such women was very different from that of other men, for they simply wanted to quench their own desires or boast of their many conquests. Michael was different, however. His reasoning was that by doing so, it gave him yet another means to despise himself all the more for what his life had become. Well, perhaps his peers had the same reason, but they were not honest with themselves about it. He was.

  He was starting to age much faster than his former friends of the same age, and though he would not admit so openly, his rage was killing him. And the drink, his beloved brandy. Though it brought him comfort, it also contributed to the disaster which was now his estate.

  Ultimately, none of it mattered. He may be a baron, but he was as poor as any sheep farmer. He had just enough money to join the occasional card game, but not enough to live a life of luxury. No parties, no balls, no extravagant dinners, no servants.

  He cackled a cynical laugh into his glass. “I don’t even have enough funds to buy myself a decent coat let alone keep on a single servant.”

  Even as he loathed himself, however, his mind returned to Miss Emma Shepherd.

  The woman had been in his house not an hour earlier, but her presence still lingered and it was soothing. Her smile was etched into his mind, the way her eyes sparkled, an image that would never leave. To kiss a woman so beautiful and innocent as she would be a treat in itself.

  And to bed such a fine lady? If the opportunity presented itself, he would do it with no qualms and leave her weeping when he grew tired of her without giving a second thought to his actions.

  “And yet, she would only ask for more,” he whispered to the empty room. “They always do.”

  The statement was true, for the women at the parties he attended sought their own pleasures. Many times, he refused them out of spite, but other times he simply could not stomach their wish to speak of emotions. One had even claimed she would marry him, but he quickly dismissed that notion. He had been married once and had learned a valuable lesson. No woman could be trusted.

  It was understanding of that lesson coupled with the death of his wife that had led him to this life of seclusion – away from the ton and the rest of society, save the scandalous parties he attended often. Those given by Lord Whiskens were among his favorites, but Michael had not attended one hosted by the man in some time. And for good reason, for it was…

  A knock at the door brought him back to the present, and for a moment, Michael considered that Lord Chambers and Miss Emma had returned. Yet, they had left over an hour ago. Curious to the intrusion of his privacy, he went to the front door. Whoever it was, he would send them away. He wanted no more callers today.

  When he opened the door, he stared at shock at his sister, Susanna.

  “Michael!” she said with great enthusiasm.

  He had not seen the woman in four years. Until this moment, he had not realized how much he had missed her. She was handsome in her green traveling dress and matching coat, her long, dark hair, so much like his, beneath a green hat.

  “Susanna? What are you doing here? Please, come in.” He moved aside, but she looked behind her and then back at him.

  “Thank you,” she said as she moved past him, “but I cannot stay long. Henry is in a hurry to return home.”

  Michael nodded. Her husband was a kind enough man, but he was often in a rush going from one place or another, so it was not surprising they would not be staying.

  When they entered the drawing room, she gasped. “Michael, the furniture? Where has it all gone?”

  “I have a couch and a chair,” he replied as he poured himself a new drink. “What more does a man who lives alone need?”

  Susanna stood with her hands clasped in front of her. “I heard you sold all your belongings, but I refused to believe it. And though I see this room is rather vacant, I must ask. Is it true? Have you sold everything?”

  Anger and shame filled him. “It is. But who is saying such things? Was it Tipton? The man likes to do what he can to ruin me.” He took a quick drink of his brandy.

  “I have no idea who started the rumors, but that does not matter. The fact is the rumors have made their circuit through the ton.”

  “Why are you here?” Michael asked, now annoyed at her presence. “After four years have you finally come to apologize?”

  “Apologize?” she asked, her voice sounding hurt. “It was you at my wedding who caused the uproar.”

  Michael glared at her. “The man insulted me. I will not take such disrespect from him or any man. And yet you took his side.”

  His sister clicked her tongue. “He told you to ease on the drink, and you struck him with your fist. And yet it is I who should apologize?”

  “If you came to hear me say I regret my actions that day, then you have wasted a journey,” he said, his teeth grinding. “I will do no such thing.”

  He took another drink, and his sister approached him, her head low. “I do not want an apology from you. I want you to know that I am worried about you.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “No, you are not fine. Look at our home. It is in ruins. Your life is falling apart just as surely as this house is.” She took the glass from him and placed it on the mantelpiece. “You are my brother, and I love you.”

  For a moment, he considered telling her he was sorry for his behavior that day, and he would have if not for what followed.

  “It is why I have this for you.” She reached into her reticule and pulled out a handful of notes. “Henry agrees that the sum might help you fix up the house. ‘If one’s home is in order, then his life is more likely to be in order.’” The last was an old adage their mother had been known to quote often.

  When she placed the notes in his hand, he pushed them back, anger and humiliation making him feel ill. “I do not want your money nor your charity! You pity me and give me money as a way to justify judging my life! Well, I will not have it!”

  “That is not why I do it!” Susanna cried. “You are my brother, and I fear for what you have become.”

  “Take your money and your judgment with you out of my home,” he replied through clenched teeth. “I do not wish to see you again. Ever.”

  A tear rolled down his sister’s cheek as she whispered, “Michael…”


  “Now!” he shouted, and with a nod, she turned and left the room. Soon the front door slammed shut.

  Returning to his glass, Michael finished the brandy in one swallow and went to pour another. Then he walked over to the window to watch the carriage pull away from the house, his sister peering up at him through its curtains.

  Perhaps he had been wrong to strike the man at her wedding. Ignoring her letters over the past years was also his fault. But that gave her no right to remind him of his failings in life. He had once been a confident man, one who by game of chance or business dealing lived by a single creed. Barons always win wagers. Yet, that creed had failed him and had cost him dearly.

  ***

  The following morning Michael woke with a pounding head, and the knocking at the door only made it worse.

  “For years I have had no guests,” he mumbled, standing up from the couch in the drawing room where he had slept for the night, “and now, I can find no peace.” He looked around and yawned.

  The knock came again, and with a string of curses, he managed to make it to the door. Though he was only in his shirtsleeves and breeches, he cared not if the King himself waited to greet him. It would serve whoever it was right for interrupting his sleep so early!

  Opening the door, he was surprised to see a young boy of perhaps twelve standing with a letter in his hand.

  “Lord Bracken, my lord?” the boy asked.

  “Yes. What do you want?”

  “I’ve a letter for you, my lord, from Miss Emma Shepherd.” The boy handed Michael a folded piece of parchment. “She asked me to wait for your reply.”

  Michael rubbed his eyes, wondering why the woman had sent him a letter. Opening it, he struggled to focus on the words, which seemed to quaver of their own accord.

  My Lord,

  I write to you in the most sincerest of apologies for my actions yesterday. How could a man as wise and handsome as you fall for the antics of a lady such as me? Though I understand the sale of your land is not up for discussion, I did find your company enjoyable. In fact, with my brother-in-law and sister on their way to London, I find myself lonely.