Forbidden by Rachel van Dyken, Kristin Vayden, Kelly Martin, Nadine Millard Page B

eyes, as though he had been sleeping as
badly as she, and he looked miserable, but she could only assume
that this time of year was hard for him.
    And in spite of what he'd said, her heart
still ached for him, and she wanted to make it better.
    "Where are your mother and Lottie?" she
asked, hearing the wobble in her voice.
    "They're ensconced with Mrs. Yates, meeting
the villagers and hearing the list of Mrs. Callahan's
maladies."
    She tried to smile at his joke, she really
did. But her mouth couldn't form a smile.
    "Please dance with me," he whispered.
    Mariah looked about and saw that they were
drawing attention.
    Soon people would come falling over
themselves to be introduced to the new man in town.
    So, nodding her consent, she allowed him to
escort her onto the dance floor, all the while praying that she
would have the strength not to cry.
    The strains of a quadrille started and Mariah
shivered as his hand snaked about her, gathering her close.
    "You look beautiful," he said as they began
to move.
    Mariah held herself as stiffly as she could
because she wanted more than anything to sink into him, to beg him
to love her even half as much as she loved him. But her pride
wouldn't allow it and her pride was the only thing she had
left.
    "You left," he said now, though there was no
accusation in his tone, merely sadness.
    "I did," was all she said.
    An uncomfortable silence fell between them as
they swept round the other couples. Mariah had never felt so alone
in a crowd of people.
    "Lottie told me what she said to you. What
she heard. Mariah, I – please believe me when I say I did not—"
    His words were cut off when Bobby Thornton,
who had had far too much to drink, came stumbling into them trying
his best to dance alone.
    Brandon muttered a soft oath, dropping her
hand and stepping away. "For God's sake, I cannot talk to you here.
Will you come back to the manor house with me? Please?"
    It was the plea that did it. In his words, in
his voice, in his eyes. Mariah knew that she could not deny him
anything.
    Without waiting for her to answer, he
clutched her arm and practically dragged her to his carriage which
was, thankfully, the last in a long line surrounding the
church.
    Once inside, he placed a carriage run on her
knees and then sat at the other side.
    The silence was suffocating but Mariah made
no attempt to break it.
    What was she to say in any case?
    She could rail at him for not loving her
back, but that wasn't his fault.
    She could beg him to consider her as a wife,
but her pride wouldn't allow it.
    She could pretend that everything was fine
but her heart wouldn't allow that.
    So, she said nothing and neither did he.
    The carriage ride seemed interminable, but at
last they rolled to a stop outside the manor.
    The front of the house was ablaze with
candles and it looked so welcoming, no longer unloved, that Mariah
felt herself smile for the first time in days.
    Brandon stepped out of the carriage then held
out a hand to assist. But after she alighted, he held onto her
hand, not letting her pull away. It was an exquisite type of
torture.
    As they stepped into the entrance hall,
Brandon divested her of her cloak, gloves, and bonnet, explaining
that the servants were all at the fete.
    They were alone.
    A thrill chased along Mariah's spine before
she ruthlessly quashed it. What difference did it make?
    "Would you care for a drink?" he asked, his
voice echoing in the cavernous room.
    "No, thank you," she squeaked, fairly shaking
with nerves.
    "I want to show you something," he said
before taking her gently by the arm and leading her toward the
library.
    Mariah frowned. There was nothing he could
show her in there that she hadn't already seen. She'd practically
lived in the room for weeks.
    He opened the door and allowed her to step in
before him.
    The first thing she noticed was the fire
blazing in the hearth. Surely it was folly to have left it as such
if everyone had planned to be away for the evening.
    But then, as