Marriage - Married In Haste Part 18

your meeting me halfway."

She studied him a moment. Her confession was on the tip of her tongue...but her courage failed her. She turned her head and stared into the flickering flames of the candles.

He watched her, waiting.

Why was he so persistent? Why couldn't he leave her alone?

She faced him. "What we did earlier-that is, in bed," she added, so there could be no mistake. "It is

supposed to be wonderful if you are in love."His expression grew guarded. "That's what the poets tell us.""It's what Leah Carrollton says, too." She met his gaze. "You had done it before, haven't you?""Make love? A time or two," he admitted dryly.She wished he would cover himself. He was as bold as a buccaneer and twice as deadly to her peace of mind. "Was it wonderful that time or two?""Why do I feel I am stepping onto very thin ice?" When she didn't reply, he said, "I found pleasure in it.""But was it wonderful?""As wonderful as can be expected," he snapped out. "Tess, come to bed. We'll hash this out in the morning."

She sat back in the chair, drawing her knees protectively in front of her. "I think I will stay here."

He glared at her. "I'm tempted to argue with you. To march over there, pick you up, and toss you onto

the bed where you belong-"His words challenged her. She was ready to deliver a scathing retort when he finished, "But I won't.

Because it might be a battle I'd lose," he continued in answer to her unspoken question. "And I always like to win, Tess Owen. Always. So you can sleep in the chair if you wish."

He lay down then, finally covering his glorious body with the bedclothes. Giving her his back, he rolled

over.

Tess sat vigilant in her chair, expecting him to jump up at any moment. Her muscles started to cramp, but she kept still-until she realized he had fallen asleep! Just like that.

She blew out the candles, but not without taking one long look at this man who was her husband. He

looked so big in the bed. His broad shoulders seemed to take up almost a full three quarters of it. In an instant, she could recall the feeling of his body joined with hers. A s.h.i.+ver of foreboding ran through her. "He wouldn't have wanted to hear the truth," she told herself. She could still hear the echo of his words:"...a beautiful, vibrant, wealthy woman..."

What was she going to do when he found out the truth?

But when she did fall asleep, it wasn't her fears that haunted her but the echo of Leah's voice whispering how wonderful it was to be in love.

The next morning, Tess woke to find herself in bed, the covers pulled up to her neck. She knew she hadn 't gotten there herself. She rolled over, expecting to see Brenn grinning at her, but he wasn't there. She listened, hearing no sound other than her own breathing. Slowly, she sat up and searched the room. She was alone.

But he had been here. The edge of a copper bathing tub could be seen from behind the screen and the air smelled of his shaving soap. He didn't use the perfumed bars so many men favored. Instead, his soap reminded her of warm cinnamon and other spices of the Indies.

A knock sounded on the door. At her call, her lady's maid, Willa, entered carrying a tray of chocolate and rolls. "Good morning, my lady," she said cheerily. She set the tray down on the table and crossed to open the curtains. "We've about got your things packed for the trip, but it is best you be up and not lazing about." Bright sunlight filled the room. "Just imagine, you are a countess now!"

Tess rose from the bed. "What time is it?"

"Half past nine. Lord Merton said he wants to be on the road well before noon." She stopped, her

eyebrows coming up in surprise at the haphazard order of the blankets. "My, it looks like the two of you did a bit of wrestling last night."

Tess felt herself blush from her head to her toes. She hurried behind the screen, hiding her embarra.s.sment

behind her role of mistress. "I need a bath. See to fresh water, please."

"Yes, my lady." The maid left.

A heartbeat later, there was another knock. The door opened without her answering.

Tess stuck her head around the screen, fearing it was Brenn. She wasn't ready to see him just yet. To her

relief, it was her brother. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair mussed. She wondered if he'd made it to his bed at all, or had he once again pa.s.sed out from drink in the library?

He gave her a crooked smile. "Good morning, Tess."

"Neil."

"Sorry to disturb you but, ah, it is my duty, you know."

"What is your duty?"

He made a face. "To ensure the marriage has been consummated. Christopher will ask," he explained, referring to the man of business who had almost absolute control over their lives according to their father'

s will.

No, not enough control, Tess amended to herself. If Mr. Christopher had been the overseer of her inheritance, she would never have been forced to marry.

Neil threw back the sheets. "Ah, the marriage was consummated."

"Neil, this is so medieval," she protested in a faint voice.

"Medieval or not, it is how things are done," her brother said briskly. "I don't want Merton claiming the marriage was not legitimate when he discovers the truth about your fortune."

"Are you going to tell him this morning?"

Neil drew back, horrified by the thought. "Absolutely not. We don't want him to know until the very last possible moment. Besides, you need time for him to get to know you better. You don't want him to set you aside once he finds out he's been duped."

Duped. She hated the word.

"Oh, don't prune up," her brother said. "After a few weeks with you, he'll be so daffy in love, money won't matter."

Tess doubted Neil's optimism. "But the two of you are signing papers and Mr. Christopher will be here. Certainly Mr. Christopher will want to see that my financial affairs are in order? He'll know."

"He won't." Neil frowned. "I told him I've taken care of it. Tess, you must stop putting a dark cloud over everything. It will all work out-if your manner doesn't betray us."

"Please, tell him."

"If you want him told, you do it. Of course, don't come crying to me if he leaves you. Then everyone will know. You will be the laughingstock of the ton. Will that please you?"

Tess could not imagine a worse fate. Her courage faltered. "What shall I do?"

Her brother smiled. "It's simple. You are the man's wife. Go with him to Wales. Please him. You know how to control men. Soon, he won't care about your fortune." He kissed her on the forehead before adding, "Besides, Merton isn't without resources of his own. Sir Charles said he owns a good portion of Wales. He's probably so wealthy your lack of funds won't matter."

Knowing what little she did of Brenn, and men, Tess didn't believe that statement for a moment. She also knew her brother didn't believe it either-but arguing would be fruitless.

Neil tilted her chin up. "You'd best get dressed. Merton wants to leave as soon as the papers are signed." A second later, he left the room.

Tess sat down in the chair, her legs feeling as if they'd turned to jelly. She took a sip of the chocolate. The sweetbitter taste calmed her frazzled nerves until she realized just how quickly her life was changing. In hours, she would be gone from London, her family, and her friends. Few people would think it the least bit sad. Neil and Stella were actually happy to see her go, relieved even.

The only person in the world who seemed to want her was an all-too-perceptive Welshman. And she was deceiving him.

Worse, there was something disturbing about a man who had the ability to slip past her carefully erected defenses. Something unsettling.

Brenn Owen was the one man who could break her. She sensed that on a deep, almost primitive level. He'd already thwarted her at every turn.

She could not let him closer.

Tess had not felt so alone since her father's death. This time when the tears threatened, she did not fight them. Minnie had always said that a good cry was balm for the soul.

But, Tess discovered, they couldn't cleanse a troubled spirit.

Outside the bedroom door, Brenn raised his hand, ready to knock. He'd met Hamlin in the hallway. His new brother-in-law had briskly informed him that he had inspected the wedding sheets. The marriage had been "well and truly consummated" and he would meet with Brenn in his study fifteen minutes from now to finalize the transfer of Tess's money over to her husband.

Brenn had been shocked at the man's callous att.i.tude toward his sister. Inspecting the sheets! It was completely ridiculous-and just the sort of thing to bring out Tess's temper.

He'd rushed to Tess as quickly as he could, but now he paused. Through the thickness of the door, he heard crying. He leaned against it, listening intently.

It had to be Tess. His strong, independent Tess. She cried as if her heart was breaking.

Flattening his hand against the door, he wished she trusted him enough to let him comfort her. But she would not appreciate his presence and he knew without asking that she would deny that anything was wrong.

Perhaps he should have been more open with her last night. He could have confessed that the fine manor house of Erwynn Keep existed only in his mind, that it would take years of work before the estate matched the image he'd drawn on paper. That it was nothing but a sh.e.l.l of a house now, though he would restore it to its proper glory. But he feared giving her more reason to armor herself against him.

No, he would earn her trust...and maybe, someday, he would earn her love.

Love? The thought had come from nowhere, completely unbidden.

Brenn had grown up knowing love. His mother and father had been more than just man and wife; they had been lovers in the truest sense of the word. He'd realized the difference between them and other couples at an early age. He was a product of their love-and loved by each of them-but their first love was saved for each other.

Because she loved her husband, Lydia Owen had followed the army, a hard life for any woman, even an officer's wife. Because he loved his wife, Geoffrey Owen had renounced his birthright. And when Lydia had died of pneumonia, her husband had drank himself to ill-health and then embraced death.

The way his father had grieved after his mother's death had embarra.s.sed Brenn. It had angered him and irritated him...and saddened him. Once again, he'd been left out.

When his father had died, Brenn had driven the corpse back to the small church in Portugal where his mother had been buried. There, he had ordered the priest to bury his father in the same grave as his mother.

Now, he stood silent outside his wife's door, listening to her tears and contemplating the sort of love that made a man follow a woman to the grave...and knew that he did not love Tess in that way.

It is supposed to be wonderful if you are in love. Her words of the night before reverberated in his brain -and gave him an idea: if Tess loved him, she would forgive his small deceit about Erwynn Keep. Love did that to women. Look at what hards.h.i.+ps his mother had put up with over the years because she had loved his father.

Brenn backed away from the door, knowing he had stumbled upon a solution.

He would make Tess fall in love with him. Oh, perhaps it wouldn't be a love like his parents had...but then he and Tess didn't know each other very well. Certainly, she didn't trust him or else she wouldn't have spent a portion of the night in a chair. Or have told him that silly story about her age being a secret.

But he'd remedy that on the trip to Wales...and then maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't cry anymore.

Chapter Nine.

A few minutes later, Brenn sat in Hamlin's study and watched his new brother-in-law make himself a stiff drink with trembling hands. There wasn't much to admire in Neil Hamlin. He was soft-as were so many of the young men of wealth and privilege Brenn had met in London. Hard to believe Hamlin was related to Tess. She had far more fire and pride than her brother did.

"Perhaps you should try a gla.s.s of water," he suggested mildly.

"Can't. Devil of a headache. Cheers." Hamlin sucked the gla.s.s dry.

Brenn stretched out his leg. It was bothering him. He thought of Tess crying up in their room. He was

anxious to leave. "When is Mr. Christopher arriving?"