Hunter Of My Heart. Janet Kendall

mine. He discussed his plantation in Barbados and included every unconventional business maneuver he had ever employed. “Satisfied?”

      “Almost. You left out your little trip to Australia.”

      Hunter gripped the key and managed an unaffected facade. What kind of game was he playing? “A good businessman should always see to his interests. Why shouldn’t I see to my warehouses and estate?”

      “I know about those, too. I am a good friend of Australia’s governor.”

      Hunter planted his fists at his waist. “Why ask me anything if you know the answers?”

      Sadlerfield straightened. “I am just confirming the facts. A man of my years and experience assumes nothing. You will do.”

      “For what?”

      “To marry Sabrina, of course.”

      The key dug into his flesh. “You’re out of your mind.” He said the words, short and succinct.

      Sadlerfield’s chin rose. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

      The duke’s shocking demand stirred a question, one that seemed improbable. “You want an heir? Go look for a stupid buck! Did you plan the debt? Did you force her into a situation so she had no choice but to come here?”

      When the pounding continued, Hunter glowered at the door. Despite her beauty, a wife was the last thing he wanted, and an impertinent, lying chit only made matters worse.

      Sadlerfield remained stoic. “Outrageous. I am merely a concerned guardian who spent years searching for my only kin.”

      “You left out planning and scheming.”

      “If I have, so what? She was still here. A man of my position must assure the title will continue. Why allow such revered heritage to revert to the Crown?”

      “I refuse to marry her.”

      “I think not. You transported your father against his will. The governor conveyed that amusing story. A man in his cups can tell a great deal.” The duke’s blue eyes gleamed.

      Hunter forced a harsh laugh. Did Sadlerfield know all? “You believe a drunken man’s tale?” he asked in an icy tone.

      “Whether I do or not is irrelevant. The governor believes it. However, he has more sympathy for you than he does your father. The fact remains, if you do not marry Sabrina, I will ruin you. I will tell the world what you did.”

      The blackmail fueled Hunter’s anger and he searched for ammunition against the duke’s well-planned assault. Yet, like a man who held bad cards, he had to try to deceive his opponent. “My father has a tainted reputation. No peer will take his side.”

      “Society might not believe Lord Wick. However, they would believe me if I conveyed the tale. Are you willing to chance it?”

      Hunter stalked to the hearth. “Bringing a Sinclair into your family could sully the Barrington name. Is that what you want?”

      “If I ignore Lord Wick’s despicable reputation, your lineage is satisfactory. Besides, linkage to the Barrington name will improve your social standing. The connection might even help you in Parliament. What is your answer?”

      Hunter understood the threat. Marry the wench or suffer personal and political ruination. He slammed his palm against the stone mantel and wished it were the duke’s face. He had no choice. “Damn your pompous hide.”

      “I gather that means yes?”

      “One day I’ll see you in hell for this.”

      A corner of the duke’s mouth rose. “My felicitations.”

      “Don’t expect me to ask for her hand.”

      

      Sabrina kicked the door. “Let me out of here!”

      Now she could truly understand the reason her mother had begged her to hide the twins, having aptly described the duke. Sabrina would do anything to keep them from this cold, ruthless man! His heartlessness alone would kill her brother.

      As metal grated in the keyhole, she stepped back. Suddenly the door slammed against the wall. Kenilworth’s piercing look could splinter rock.

      For a second, she stood paralyzed, but rage and pride forced her chin up. “Move aside, milord!”

      “Enjoy your moment of freedom,” he drawled, and stepped away.

      She stomped past him but suddenly realized the men were glaring at each other. Warily she looked at her grandfather.

      He held her gaze with unmoving eyes. “I am by rights your guardian and have arranged for your future.”

      Horror rocked her heart. “I’ve managed on my own.”

      “You are the granddaughter of a duke. I control you.” He slanted a glance at the earl. “That is, until you marry. Sabrina, meet your intended.”

      His words hit her like a hurricane, at once stealing her breath and fueling her anger. She jabbed her arm toward the earl. “Him! Never! I refuse to marry to him!”

      “Don’t dream that I’d ever ask for you.” Kenilworth scanned her with cold eyes.

      She let out a deep breath at the earl’s refusal, but simultaneously his rejection tweaked her pride. The humiliating situation was the cause, wasn’t it? “His lordship and I agree. We don’t want to marry. We don’t even like each other!”

      “It is what I want that matters. You will marry him. You stayed here, and he has agreed to do the honorable thing!”

      Kenilworth sneered. She could feel the anger emanating from him, sense his restraint, see the fury hardening every muscle. Like a cornered animal about to pounce, he seemed suddenly...primitive. He walked to the hearth, planted his hands on the mantel and stared at the cold ashes.

      Sabrina couldn’t explain her sudden compassion for the earl, a victim like herself. “Your grace. You can’t insinuate that he compromised me. He didn’t.”

      The earl slapped the mantel. “When do you want the marriage?”

      Surprised that he would relent without a fight, she twirled around. He had held his ground about the debt. “Milord! Are you a coward? If we both refuse, he can’t force us!”

      “Well, he has.” Fury burned in his eyes.

      Sabrina pursed her lips. Her grandfather must have somehow threatened to use his power, just as he had persecuted her mother. This thought didn’t ease her tumultuous emotions. “Really, milord. I expected you to give a better fight.”

      “Oh, he tried. You will marry within a month. I’ve a paper that will secure a license.”

      Kenilworth marched toward the duke. “What paper?”

      Her grandfather reached into his tailcoat pocket.

      She jabbed the air with her fist. “A month! Never!”

      Keeping his eyes on her, the duke started to hand the paper to the earl. “Is that shop important to your aunt?”

      Sabrina threw him a vicious glare and grabbed the paper. “Just like you to take away our livelihood!” As she read the letter, her hands began to shake. I will help you in any way regarding the personal matter we discussed. William Howley, Cantuar. “You went to the archbishop!”

      Kenilworth snatched the paper from her hand and read. His jaw worked. “So, you paved a path to God just to see your granddaughter married,” he drawled.

      “I will do anything for a male heir. The Barrington name must continue.”

      She knew his title and deeds to property came from Norman times. By royal decree, the lands were entailed and the deeds stipulated that only a male heir could inherit. Yet, out of this mess, Sabrina felt a ray of hope. The relief made her