Part 8 (1/2)
”Miss Hurst,” he said impatiently, ”you are making far too much of this. I, for one, never wished to marry.”
”No?”
”No. I'm sure you did, for all women do, but we are both required to make sacrifices. Once this is over, so long as we both calmly go our own ways and act discreetly, I see no reason why we can't both have full and productive lives.”
She appeared astounded. ”Do you even have a heart?”
”Apparently not.”
She gave a slightly hysterical laugh. ”I don't know whether to pity you, or wish I could be the same.”
”Pray don't make this an emotional issue,” he replied calmly. ”It's only fair that you know how things stand before we begin.”
She twisted her hands in her lap. ”MacLean, I know a divorce would be impossible without a public trial and an act of Parliament-”
”And we'd face an even worse scandal than we have now.”
”Yes, but what about an annulment? Surely we could gain one once the rumors have died down.”
”There are only three acceptable grounds for an annulment and every one would cause a scandal equal to the one we face now.”
She took off her spectacles and rubbed the bridge of her nose. ”I wish we could just pretend none of this happened and each go our own way.”
”So do I, but it's not practical. We must make this look believable or the talk will not stop. Triona, once we embark on this path, we're committed. You will live with me at Gilmerton Manor in Scotland until the talk dies down, and then you'll return home and we'll be as we were before.”
”But married.” She sighed, her breath lifting her b.r.e.a.s.t.s against the fabric of her gown.
He watched, riveted. d.a.m.n it, what was it about her that had him so on edge? If she so much as moved, he found himself watching her, waiting, wondering.... Ah, perhaps that was it. Soon she would be his, and he would have access to her plump lips, the slope of her white throat, the sensual thrust of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s- ”MacLean?” she snapped.
There was no doubt that she'd seen exactly what he'd been staring at. ”We are settled then,” he said promptly, his face warm. ”I will return on Friday. Have your portmanteau packed and we shall leave alone for the church.”
”Alone? What of my family? We'll need witnesses.”
”I'm sure the church will provide what is necessary.” He hesitated, then added, ”I'd like to keep this information from your aunt and uncle. I have the impression they wouldn't accept our simple plan.”
Triona hesitated, then nodded. ”My aunt has done nothing this morning but talk about the wedding and how nice it will be.”
He grimaced.
”My thoughts exactly,” she agreed.
Hugh had to appreciate her sensible approach. Most women would have insisted upon the laces and trims; it was a good sign that she didn't seem to care for them. ”Good, then. We will leave them a letter and be off on Friday.” He hesitated. ”What about your parents?”
”They are visiting my uncle in the Lake District. Aunt Lavinia sent word to them this morning, but it will take the messenger at least three days to locate them and another three or four for them to arrive in London.”
”Then we shall marry without them.”
”That is a good thing. My parents will be upset at this situation, and it would be better to leave them a note explaining that it has already been resolved.” She slanted him a look of uncertainty.
”Yes?” he prompted.
”I would like to invite them to visit, if you don't mind.”
”Of course. Gilmerton Manor will be your home, too.”
Emotions flickered over her face, wariness foremost.
”I am an honorable man, Triona. You should know that.”
Her gaze narrowed, her expression cool. ”Your behavior toward me in the carriage was not that of an honorable man.”
He wished he could say that he'd forgotten that kiss, but he remembered it all too clearly. She'd been soft and sweet, her lips ripe and succulent, and-for a moment-willing. Hugh's body burned with a sudden desire to repeat that moment. Calm down, you fool. There will be plenty of time for that later. He'd make sure of it.
Triona crossed her arms, unwittingly pressing her full b.r.e.a.s.t.s toward the demure neckline of her gown. ”That kiss wasn't the action of an honorable man. You wanted to punish my sister, to frighten her.”
He had, until his lips had touched Triona's and ignited that amazing heat. Then all he'd wanted was more.
A lot more.
He had to control that heat. Strong pa.s.sions always burned themselves out, though, and he was certain that, once it was slaked in the marriage bed, he'd no longer have to fight this physical yearning for her. That was one advantage of marriage: enough contact would kill every vestige of attraction.
She wet her lips, a gesture that made him harden even more. ”MacLean, this marriage of ours...”
”Yes?”
She lifted her chin. ”It will be a marriage in name only.”
Like h.e.l.l! Hugh's gaze traveled from the dark gold sweep of her hair, to the lush line of her lashes, to her plump rosebud mouth, to the full b.r.e.a.s.t.s pressed upward by her crossed arms; then he lingered appreciatively on the generous curve of her hips. Her legs were hidden from sight by her skirts, but he could imagine...
”No,” he replied firmly. ”This will be a real marriage in every way, or it won't be a marriage at all. It would be foolish to take away the one thing that might make this marriage bearable.”
”And what is that?” Her voice was low and breathless, and excited him.
”The physical pleasure, my sweet.” He closed the distance between them, cupping her face with one hand, her skin warm beneath his palm. He ran his thumb over her moist lips, making her s.h.i.+ver, and he could almost taste the longing that simmered between them.
She tightly closed her eyes, and when she opened them her gaze was cooler and resolute. ”I don't know that physical pleasure is all that important, if we're to separate afterward.”
He remembered her innocence at their kiss, his body smoldering anew. ”Ah, but it is. It is a very great factor.” To prove his point, he slipped a finger under her chin and lifted her lips to his.
He meant only to show her how pleasant and sensual a kiss could be. But as his lips touched hers, and she hesitated a brief second before leaning forward and offering her sweetness to him yet again, something happened. The same thing that had happened in the carriage.
Hugh forgot where he was, what he was trying to accomplish, and why. All he knew was the feel of her warm lips beneath his, the pressure of her round b.r.e.a.s.t.s against his chest, the warmth of her as he wrapped his arms about her and pulled her against him.
But this time, the banked flames stirred to an even hotter, more dangerous level. Soon he would have this woman. In every way possible, she would belong to him.
The primitive reaction flooded him in a flash of pa.s.sion so bright, so powerful, that he didn't even think of resisting it.