business, and she didn’t trust me to do it. She said if I was weak enough to get myself with child out of wedlock, I was too weak to run the pub.” She lowered her head as the old failure seared her.
Charles strode to her and with two fingers tilted her face up to his. His touch lit up her cold soul and brought back the peace she’d experienced during their night together. Regret shone in his eyes as much as it tortured her heart. “I would’ve helped if you’d let me.”
“It wasn’t possible.” She lifted her chin off his fingers and took a step back, refusing to succumb to the same false promise of security which had trapped her mother in her disastrous second marriage. “As your wife, I would’ve had to follow you to Spain, and my mother would’ve lost everything to Paul. He had gambling debts and used money from the Marquis to pay loans and secure more for continued nights at the tables. Thankfully, the fever claimed him a week before it did my mother. If it hadn’t, Paul’s son would have inherited the pub and with it John’s legacy. Since their deaths, I’ve worked hard to clear what’s owed and keep from losing it, but there’s one more sum outstanding. ” And it was the worst. Mr. Pratt held Paul’s last and largest debt. With payment due in days, it was about to consume everything unless she could find a way to raise the money. Charles was a complication she didn't need.
"And now that I’ve returned?"
“You must keep pretending until you go back to Spain.” She couldn’t make their marriage legal and risk losing control of the pub, and John, to a man she barely knew. Nor could she saddle him with her debts and problems.
Charles leaned back against one of the round tables and rested his large hands on the scarred wood, something of the carefree officer she’d adored flickering in his cocksure smile. It made her toes curl in both desire and worry. “I’m not going back. Major Wilson is speaking with Lord Beckwith about a posting for me in London. I’m home for good.”
CHAPTER THREE
“I’ll marry you and we’ll make this charade of yours real,” Charles announced. His father had taught him to meet his obligations and he had, joining the Army to support his mother and sister after his father had died in debt and the creditors had seized the family bakery. John and Mary were his responsibility and he’d see to them too. “Together, we’ll find a way to deal with the remaining debt.”
“No.” Mary lifted her chin like a defiant enemy soldier, the loose strands of her hair falling back to caress her neck. He wanted to tuck them behind the delicate curve of her ear, and then crush her to him until her stoic stance softened into the languid embrace he used to cherish. “ I’ve solved my problems on my own before, I’ll do it again. ”
He drummed his fingers on his crossed arms, the warmth of her chin still vivid against his fingertips. He admired her determination and spirit but not when she turned them against him.
“I’m willing to take them on to help you and John.” He pushed away from the table to stand over her. The faint scent of rosewater and the bready tang of hops surrounded her, bringing back all the nights he’d come here to buy ale he hadn’t drunk simply to speak to her. Every male patron had admired her, but she’d favored him as she’d swept through the tables, matching his teasing word for word when she’d set down the tankards in front of him, the curve of her white arms as alluring as her hips beneath her dress. It hadn’t only been lust which had drawn them together, but a joining of similar souls. During their single night together, when they’d lain satiated and languid in each other’s arms, she’d listened to him describe the struggle to take care of his mother and sister, and how hard it’d been to be away when his mother had died. He’d told her his worries of being killed and leaving his sister to fend for herself in a
Charles strode to her and with two fingers tilted her face up to his. His touch lit up her cold soul and brought back the peace she’d experienced during their night together. Regret shone in his eyes as much as it tortured her heart. “I would’ve helped if you’d let me.”
“It wasn’t possible.” She lifted her chin off his fingers and took a step back, refusing to succumb to the same false promise of security which had trapped her mother in her disastrous second marriage. “As your wife, I would’ve had to follow you to Spain, and my mother would’ve lost everything to Paul. He had gambling debts and used money from the Marquis to pay loans and secure more for continued nights at the tables. Thankfully, the fever claimed him a week before it did my mother. If it hadn’t, Paul’s son would have inherited the pub and with it John’s legacy. Since their deaths, I’ve worked hard to clear what’s owed and keep from losing it, but there’s one more sum outstanding. ” And it was the worst. Mr. Pratt held Paul’s last and largest debt. With payment due in days, it was about to consume everything unless she could find a way to raise the money. Charles was a complication she didn't need.
"And now that I’ve returned?"
“You must keep pretending until you go back to Spain.” She couldn’t make their marriage legal and risk losing control of the pub, and John, to a man she barely knew. Nor could she saddle him with her debts and problems.
Charles leaned back against one of the round tables and rested his large hands on the scarred wood, something of the carefree officer she’d adored flickering in his cocksure smile. It made her toes curl in both desire and worry. “I’m not going back. Major Wilson is speaking with Lord Beckwith about a posting for me in London. I’m home for good.”
CHAPTER THREE
“I’ll marry you and we’ll make this charade of yours real,” Charles announced. His father had taught him to meet his obligations and he had, joining the Army to support his mother and sister after his father had died in debt and the creditors had seized the family bakery. John and Mary were his responsibility and he’d see to them too. “Together, we’ll find a way to deal with the remaining debt.”
“No.” Mary lifted her chin like a defiant enemy soldier, the loose strands of her hair falling back to caress her neck. He wanted to tuck them behind the delicate curve of her ear, and then crush her to him until her stoic stance softened into the languid embrace he used to cherish. “ I’ve solved my problems on my own before, I’ll do it again. ”
He drummed his fingers on his crossed arms, the warmth of her chin still vivid against his fingertips. He admired her determination and spirit but not when she turned them against him.
“I’m willing to take them on to help you and John.” He pushed away from the table to stand over her. The faint scent of rosewater and the bready tang of hops surrounded her, bringing back all the nights he’d come here to buy ale he hadn’t drunk simply to speak to her. Every male patron had admired her, but she’d favored him as she’d swept through the tables, matching his teasing word for word when she’d set down the tankards in front of him, the curve of her white arms as alluring as her hips beneath her dress. It hadn’t only been lust which had drawn them together, but a joining of similar souls. During their single night together, when they’d lain satiated and languid in each other’s arms, she’d listened to him describe the struggle to take care of his mother and sister, and how hard it’d been to be away when his mother had died. He’d told her his worries of being killed and leaving his sister to fend for herself in a
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