Christine Merrill – A Ring from a Marquess (страница 11)
Justine had explained the process of joining with a man, like some kind of unpleasant warning. There would be blood and pain. But God help her, why did she want to be hurt?
Justine had been wrong. It would be different with Fanworth than it had been for Justine. She had been forced into a liaison, with Mr Montague in this very shop.
‘No!’ She pushed him away, scrambling for safety. She had changed the look of the room, but she could not change the past. And at the thought of her poor, helpless sister, she wanted to be sick.
‘No?’ She could not look at him. But the frustration and anger were plain in his voice. ‘You agreed.’
‘Not here,’ she said, breathing deeply until her stomach settled. Then she gave a hasty swipe at the tears on her cheeks. When she looked up at him, her gaze was every bit as unwavering as it had been when she’d bargained away her honour. ‘It cannot be here. I cannot explain it to you. I will abide by our agreement. Anywhere but here.’
He pulled himself to a sitting position and stared at her. At the feel of his eyes on her body, she tugged the bodice of her gown up to cover breasts still wet from his kisses.
‘Not here, then,’ he said, without emotion.
The brief passion that had flashed between them was a pale imitation of the easy communion she thought they’d shared. It had been an illusion. He was as distant now as when he spoke to her sister. ‘Tomorrow. In my rooms. And then, no running. No more excuses, or I will send for Mr Smith.’
She responded with a single nod.
He nodded back, as though he could no longer trust his voice. He stood, turning away from her and running a shaky hand through his chestnut hair. Then he was gone, the front door of the shop slamming behind him.
‘You are sure there will be no difficulty?’ It was the third time Mr Pratchet had asked about the necklace that day.
For the third time, Margot answered with a quelling glance and a single word. ‘None.’
‘Perhaps it would be better if you allowed me...’
‘No. I have spoken to Lord Fanworth. The matter is settled.’ She ignored the leap her insides gave when she thought of the marquess. Pratchet had been right all along. It had all been nothing more than an elaborate seduction.
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