her these last few days, she’d gotten into his mind, taken control of his body. Even now, he ached to drag her upstairs and explore her lovely curves. Her icy tone told him that she did not feel the same.
Gone was the dewy expression she’d leveled on him the morning he’d awoken, satiated, in her arms. The look he’d quickly quelled before she’d had the chance to fancy herself in love with him.
“I do not think that is possible,” Brenna said, dismissive. “We spent but one night together. By the time I have found a suitor, I should know if I will bear your offspring.”
Richard’s head pounded. He imagined a young nobleman climbing into Brenna’s bed, kissing her breasts, pleasuring her, and reveling in her passionate nature.
He blinked to clear the image. If he was so eager to be free of his troublesome wife, why, then, did his stomach burn with the desire to strangle any man who touched her?
“What then?” he snapped. “Will you lead him to believe he’s the father?”
Brenna took a sip of tea. “I will decide then what to do if your seed has planted in fertile ground. We will not worry about it now. All we can do is pray that fate has not settled upon us that grim hand.”
Grim hand? She did not want his child?
The headache pounded in his temples. This emotionless woman was the same Brenna who’d made love to him so passionately? The same woman who’d begged him to take her while whispering encouragement as he’d explored every inch of her with his mouth?
Lud, what madness was this? He wanted to shake her, yet she was giving him his freedom. Why did he care what she did once she was out of his life?
Hell, she was correct. This marriage was a mistake. Richard knew if he did not distance himself from her, and soon, he would find himself fully besotted.
Resolve settled firmly in the pit of his stomach. Free her. Now. “Then we are in agreement,” he said flatly. “Tomorrow we shall send you off to London, and I will return to Beckwith Hall to await news of your engagement. I will then contact a solicitor and see if I can arrange for an annulment. If the marriage does come to light, I will make myself the villain. It is the least I can do for you—and your father.”
Richard thought he saw a flicker of sadness pass through her eyes but could not be certain. Her stoic expression had not changed.
Damn. He
was
a villain. The bad judgment he’d displayed since she’d arrived at his door on that first night had gotten them into this fix. He’d do anything he could to right his wrong, with no damage to her reputation.
Brenna nodded. “Thank you.”
B renna managed to keep her emotions in check through the rest of the evening and breakfast the next morning. When they reached the outskirts of London, she reclaimed Brontes. Richard sent the coach off and helped her mount.
She looked down at him from the saddle, memorizing the lines of his face, the crinkles around his eyes, his dusty coat. Years from now when she looked back on her adventure toScotland, she wanted to remember him, not as the rigid stranger standing before her now but as the man who’d taken her innocence in one glorious night of passion and who was, for one brief moment, her husband.
“How will you explain your absence when asked?” he pressed.
“The story about an unplanned visit to my ailing Aunt Primrose should suffice to satisfy the gossips.” Brenna tightened her hands on the reins. “You need not concern yourself any further. I will be fine.”
Richard nodded. “Be well, Brenna.”
“You as well.” With those last words, her marriage to her highwayman-stranger was over.
He released his hold on Brontes, and Brenna turned the horse toward home. She nudged the mare into a slow lope and did not look back, even once, as tears flowed freely down her face.
Chapter Ten
I demand an accounting of every minute that you’ve been away, young lady. You cannot disappear and expect to reappear without a good
Gone was the dewy expression she’d leveled on him the morning he’d awoken, satiated, in her arms. The look he’d quickly quelled before she’d had the chance to fancy herself in love with him.
“I do not think that is possible,” Brenna said, dismissive. “We spent but one night together. By the time I have found a suitor, I should know if I will bear your offspring.”
Richard’s head pounded. He imagined a young nobleman climbing into Brenna’s bed, kissing her breasts, pleasuring her, and reveling in her passionate nature.
He blinked to clear the image. If he was so eager to be free of his troublesome wife, why, then, did his stomach burn with the desire to strangle any man who touched her?
“What then?” he snapped. “Will you lead him to believe he’s the father?”
Brenna took a sip of tea. “I will decide then what to do if your seed has planted in fertile ground. We will not worry about it now. All we can do is pray that fate has not settled upon us that grim hand.”
Grim hand? She did not want his child?
The headache pounded in his temples. This emotionless woman was the same Brenna who’d made love to him so passionately? The same woman who’d begged him to take her while whispering encouragement as he’d explored every inch of her with his mouth?
Lud, what madness was this? He wanted to shake her, yet she was giving him his freedom. Why did he care what she did once she was out of his life?
Hell, she was correct. This marriage was a mistake. Richard knew if he did not distance himself from her, and soon, he would find himself fully besotted.
Resolve settled firmly in the pit of his stomach. Free her. Now. “Then we are in agreement,” he said flatly. “Tomorrow we shall send you off to London, and I will return to Beckwith Hall to await news of your engagement. I will then contact a solicitor and see if I can arrange for an annulment. If the marriage does come to light, I will make myself the villain. It is the least I can do for you—and your father.”
Richard thought he saw a flicker of sadness pass through her eyes but could not be certain. Her stoic expression had not changed.
Damn. He
was
a villain. The bad judgment he’d displayed since she’d arrived at his door on that first night had gotten them into this fix. He’d do anything he could to right his wrong, with no damage to her reputation.
Brenna nodded. “Thank you.”
B renna managed to keep her emotions in check through the rest of the evening and breakfast the next morning. When they reached the outskirts of London, she reclaimed Brontes. Richard sent the coach off and helped her mount.
She looked down at him from the saddle, memorizing the lines of his face, the crinkles around his eyes, his dusty coat. Years from now when she looked back on her adventure toScotland, she wanted to remember him, not as the rigid stranger standing before her now but as the man who’d taken her innocence in one glorious night of passion and who was, for one brief moment, her husband.
“How will you explain your absence when asked?” he pressed.
“The story about an unplanned visit to my ailing Aunt Primrose should suffice to satisfy the gossips.” Brenna tightened her hands on the reins. “You need not concern yourself any further. I will be fine.”
Richard nodded. “Be well, Brenna.”
“You as well.” With those last words, her marriage to her highwayman-stranger was over.
He released his hold on Brontes, and Brenna turned the horse toward home. She nudged the mare into a slow lope and did not look back, even once, as tears flowed freely down her face.
Chapter Ten
I demand an accounting of every minute that you’ve been away, young lady. You cannot disappear and expect to reappear without a good
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