need. Mr. Burke will not be staying long.”
Mariah rose from her desk, knowing that she looked less than her best after the long night. All the better for driving Burke away.
She took the back stairs to the ground floor, coming out in the narrow passage that separated the drawing room at the front of the house from Adam’s room at the back. She hadn’t checked on him in the last hour, so she looked inside. He was sleeping peacefully and there was more color in his face. He stirred a little when the door opened but didn’t wake. Julia had said to let him sleep, for rest was the best medicine after his ordeal.
Reassured, Mariah turned and opened the opposite door, which led into the back of the drawing room. She entered to find Burke gazing from a window. He was dressed with his usual dandyish elegance. A good-looking man. A pity he wasn’t more likable.
She felt a moment of sympathy for him. The fact that Burke had foolishly gambled the estate away wouldn’t dim the pain of his loss. Rather, the contrary.
Her sympathy vanished when he turned and gave her a lazy smile while he studied her with insulting frankness. She frowned. She was used to being admired by men, but the polite ones at least started by looking at her face.
“Mariah.” His smile implied greater intimacy than they shared. “How lovely you look today.”
Given the circles under her eyes, she assumed that he was either blind or a liar. “You flatter me. I look like a woman who needs a good night’s sleep.”
She was about to explain that she had been kept up late by her “husband’s” return when Burke said with dripping solicitude, “You are carrying too great a burden for a woman. I admire your spirit and determination in attempting to run the estate by yourself, but you need a man to take care of these business matters.”
“I do not,” she retorted. “I am entirely capable of managing Hartley. And if I do need help, I’ll have my husband.”
He smiled pityingly. “Isn’t it time you gave up that pretense? I know you invented a husband to keep me at a distance because I was fool enough to offer marriage when you were still shocked by the news of your father’s death. The time has come for honesty between us.”
He stepped close and took her hand, his handsome face earnest. “Marry me, Mariah. We can drive up to Gretna Green and be married in a day.” His voice became caressing. “I should like to take you to London before the Season is over. You deserve a London Season, and how better to see the delights of the city than with a devoted husband by your side?”
She was tempted to laugh. Or possibly throw something at him. “I doubt you have it in you to be a devoted husband! Even if you do, just last night my husband returned.” She tried unsuccessfully to remove her hand from his clasp. “And I have not given you leave to call me by my given name. I am Mrs. Clarke.”
After a startled moment, he laughed outright. “You are certainly persistent in your claims! Where is this husband of yours? I should be delighted to meet him.”
Exasperated by his arrogance, she managed to jerk her hand free. “You can’t see him just now. He is unwell and resting from a difficult journey.”
“And I’m the Sheik of Araby.” His expression changed, and she saw the first genuine feeling he’d shown today: lust. “I do adore you, Mariah. For your sake, I think I could even become a devoted husband.”
Before she could protest, he pulled her into his arms and crushed his mouth into hers. He tasted of brandy. At this hour of the morning! No wonder he was behaving so badly. She wrenched her head to one side and cried, “Let go of me!”
He ignored her protest, saying thickly, “We are both beautiful and a little wicked. We were meant to be together, Mariah!” He forced another kiss on her.
She tried to break away but only managed to pull them both off balance. They tumbled onto his grandmother’s small table, which fell over with a crash, but he kept her trapped in his embrace.
Mariah had been kissed by amorous and slightly foxed gentlemen before, but she had never felt real fear because her father had always been close. Now she was unprotected and no match for Burke’s strength. There were no male servants in the house, only the housekeeper and two maids, and they were unlikely to be within earshot.
Furious at her helplessness, she kicked him in the ankle, but her soft slipper didn’t even make him flinch. Toes hurting, she raised her foot to stamp down.
Before she could, Burke released her with such abruptness that she almost fell. No, he hadn’t released her; he was being wrenched away—by Adam.
Her sailor loomed over her, barefoot, head bandaged, and wrapped in her father’s worn banyan. As she watched in shock, he twisted and pitched Burke across the room. Her assailant slammed into the sofa and crumpled to the floor, expression incredulous.
Adam caught her elbow and steadied her, his eyes dark with concern. “Are you all right?”
She nodded shakily. “Right enough.”
“My poor darling.” He wrapped his left arm around her shoulders, then turned to her assailant. Though not as tall as Burke, Adam radiated an authority that could make a man twice his size cower. “Do not ever touch my wife again,” he said in a voice like flint. “Do I make myself clear?”
“I…I didn’t think Mariah was really married,” Burke stammered.
“You will not use my wife’s given name,” Adam said coldly, his arm tightening around her shoulders. “She is Mrs. Clarke to you, and you owe her an apology. Not only did you assault her, but you insulted her honesty by refusing to believe the truth.”
Mariah winced inwardly. In fact, Burke had read her lies accurately. But that gave him no right to maul her!
Burke struggled to his feet, no longer a confident dandy. “I…I thought it was a kind of game she was playing. Everyone in Hartley thought she was single. The first time she mentioned a husband, she seemed to be pulling the idea out of the air. I was sure that after she absorbed the news of her father’s death, she would see the advantages of marrying me and accept my offer.”
“He wants his property back,” Mariah explained. “George Burke is the former owner who lost this estate to my father in a card game. Saints preserve any woman fool enough to entrust her future to him!” She took a deep breath. “But I don’t think he intended harm today. He was just…thoughtless and carried away.”
Burke scowled, his expression a blend of anger and shame. “I apologize for my behavior, Mrs. Clarke. My admiration and hopes led me to misread the situation.” He retrieved his hat. “I shall leave Hartley today. There is nothing more for me here.”
There was no mention of a lawsuit. Maybe that had always been an empty threat, now dissipated by the presence of a living, breathing husband who was willing to defend Mariah and her rights. Hoping there would be no more strife, Mariah said quietly, “I wish you well in the future, Mr. Burke.”
He acknowledged her with a jerky nod of his head, then left. She exhaled roughly. “I feel sorry for the man, but I shan’t miss him.” She glanced up at Adam, who was looking exhausted now that the crisis was past. “You heard us arguing?”
“Raised voices and crashing furniture have a way
