Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 112133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112133 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 561(@200wpm)___ 449(@250wpm)___ 374(@300wpm)
He laughed a little. But the words gave him pause.
On instinct, he should have dismissed the idea out of hand. No one’s will was stronger than his. That was why he’d survived so many fights. Hadn’t he spent eleven years in the infantry, always charging into the first wave of blood, hoping to meet a stronger opponent? The man who would knock him to the ground and finally end it all, at last.
It had never happened.
Until now. And it wasn’t a man threatening to vanquish him with sabre or musket, but a woman. A woman with curves of satin and a spine of pure steel. Give in, she said. My will is stronger than yours.
On this point, he suspected she was right. His resolve was quickly softening, even as his groin went rock-hard. Wasn’t this precisely what he’d spent a lifetime chasing? Sweet, blessed defeat?
And to find it on such a lush, silky field of battle …
Destiny whispered in his ear. She was beautiful, and she was his for the taking. Whether it happened today or next year, this was fated to be.
He would have her. Today. Yes.
Yes, yes, yes. And now.
With a deep, resonant sigh, he stepped toward her.
Her expression changed quickly, from one of seduction to one of surprise. Despite her teasing, she hadn’t expected him to give in.
He stopped. He hadn’t expected her to be surprised.
Tenderness warmed her eyes. In a generous, fluid motion, she reached out a hand and beckoned. “Oh, Rhys,” she whispered. The words were so soft they might have been a caress. “Come here.”
A sharp rap at the door halted him mid-step.
God damn it. Fate was playing cruel games with him tonight.
“That’ll be our dinner,” he said. He muttered to himself, “Blast it.”
“Our dinner. And our bath?” She rose to a sitting position.
Our bath. Well, there was a happier thought.
Rhys twisted the muslin in his hands, wondering which would be worse—answering the door with a wad of frilly muslin in front of his groin? Or greeting the servants with an obvious erection?
Smiling at his predicament, Meredith saved him by answering the door herself. Rhys took his turn studying the draperies as a parade of maids bearing steaming pitchers marched through the suite, each adding her cargo to the rapidly filling tub. He pretended to admire the view of the park as a manservant wheeled a small table into the sitting room, whisking away silver dome after silver dome to reveal a feast.
“Thank you, that will be all.” Meredith’s voice. And then the soft snick of the door.
Releasing his breath, Rhys turned to her. Grinning sheepishly, he held up the abused, twisted nightrail for her inspection before tossing it aside. “You won’t be needing it anyway.”
Her breath caught. “I won’t?”
“No.”
“Good.” She took a deep breath. “So, how do we proceed? Do we eat first? Bathe?” Sparkling eyes met his. “Neither?”
“Dinner first,” he said, drawing two chairs up to the table. “Then bath. Once I have you in bed, I’m keeping you there.”
“Oh, I like the sound of that.” Her cheeks pinked as she settled into her chair and raised a glass of wine. “Shall we have a toast?”
He raised his own claret. “To the lovely Mrs. St. Maur, Lady Ashworth. And to a most enjoyable honeymoon.”
She giggled. “Be serious, Rhys.”
“I am perfectly serious.” He waited for her defensive laughter to cease. “As far as society’s concerned, you’re here in this room as my wife. And as far as I’m concerned, this night is the beginning of forever.”
She made a strange sound in her throat as she studied her wine. At length, she put it down. The glass met the table’s surface with a clink.
“Meredith, what is the matter?”
She picked up her knife and fork and began to eat.
“I mean it,” he insisted. “Tell me.”
“I don’t know, it’s just … I’m not your wife.”
“You will be.” He jabbed at a hunk of beef, and his fork screeched across the plate. “Listen, Meredith. Life’s made you cautious, I know. And I know I was gone for fourteen years and I’ve only been back for a matter of weeks. Some reluctance is understandable, and I’ve been prepared to wait it out. But surely by now you have to know I’m not just some randy traveler passing through the inn.”
“I do know that.” She chased a pea around her plate.
“Do you? I’ve had the banns read, twice, in front of the whole village. Threats, vandals, rocks to the head—I’ve endured all of these in recent weeks, and none of them have shaken my plans to rebuild Nethermoor, nor my belief that we’re meant to marry. But you still don’t trust me on this.”
“On what? Marriage?” She raised her eyebrows and her voice. “You don’t trust me on the subject either. If you did, you’d offer me a real choice in the matter. I don’t recall ever being asked if I’d like to marry you, simply told that it’s inevitable. Instead of a proposal, I get … autocratic commands and prophetic pronouncements. Where’s the trust in that?”