A Bride for the Prizefighter - Alice Coldbreath Page 0,9

Faris smacked his lips. “Excellent claret, my dear Nye,” he murmured with a sly smile. “Almost as good as your French brandy.”

“If you have a point, I suggest you get to it.” Nye’s cold eyes flickered to her again, then slid away.

Lord Faris reached for the second glass and paused with it a moment. “It’s about that small matter of Vance House,” he said thoughtfully. “We both know my father intended it for you, but alas made no such reparation in his will.” Mina watched Will Nye stiffen perceptively. Whatever he had been expecting, it had not been that. “I am prepared, shall we say, to makeover the necessary documentation to you, the deeds etcetera to make good my father’s wishes.” Lord Faris paused, clearly expecting an answer but Nye gave him none. “There is, however, one small condition.”

Mina tensed as she watched Nye’s green eyes narrow to mere slits. He looked like a venomous snake at this point who might strike at any moment. “Which is?” he said through gritted teeth when he realized the other did not intend to speak without a response.

Jeremy Vance, Viscount Faris smiled. “I wish to simplify my arrangements and gather my loved ones closer about me. It is not convenient to have them scattered so far and wide. As such, I have had my son and heir recalled from school and shall require you to marry Mina here and bring her under the fold.”

Mortified, Mina shut her eyes tight a moment, her fingers gripping the table-edge hard. When she opened them, she found Will Nye staring at her. Then slowly and deliberately he spat on the ground and then raised his eyes to her in cold contempt. “You’d have me marry her?” he said turning back to Viscount Faris.

“Indeed. A real lady and a fine wife she’ll make you Nye,” Jeremy replied heartily.

Mina could feel her expression stony and unresponsive as Nye’s eyes roamed over her with an insolence that made her palm itch to slap him. It seemed almost like her vision blurred as she flared hot as a furnace before the next instant turning as cold as the grave. Her feet felt so heavy on the floor she almost feared she might splinter the boards and sink through it. She felt short of breath and yet, if her lungs didn’t feel so empty, she would have screamed with impotent rage.

“Lose the cloak,” Nye said, jerking his chin at her.

“I will not,” she answered through gritted teeth. Did he really expect her to display herself like cattle?

“Is she with child?” he asked abruptly, turning back to Lord Faris.

Mina gasped at this, but Jeremy merely gave a choked laugh. “Nye, you wound me,” he said, pressing his hand to his chest. “You think I would foist some bastard brat on you?” Nye went very still at his words and then Jeremy added with silky malice. “I am not my father.”

They stared at each other and Mina noticed it was her brother whose eyes lowered first. He had a hectic flush on his cheeks now. He was at the reckless stage of intoxication that Hannah had described to her before. It was at this point that men could be at their most dangerous. To others and to themselves.

“I am not with child,” she said in a clear, carrying voice. When Nye did not tear his angry gaze from Jeremy’s face, she started unfastening her cloak with clumsy fingers until it fell at her feet and her slim figure in its starkly black buttoned-up gown could plainly be seen.

Nye’s gaze turned to her. His eyes were hard and glittered with fury. He barely seemed to register her words.

“I am not with child,” she repeated. Finally, he seemed to focus on her words and his gaze raked over her again, coldly assessing this time. With a short nod, he acknowledged the truth of what she said.

“Shall we proceed?” asked Jeremy, clapping his hands together unsteadily. “Send for the parson!”

“I do not think that is how it works, my lord,” Mina said urgently. “There are banns which must be put up for three weeks beforehand and—”

“Mina, Mina.” Jeremy Vance chuckled. “I am Viscount Faris and half these lands hereabouts belong to me.” He extended one hand before him, palm up. “You seem to forget the local rector’s living is mine to bestow, like so many others. Is that not so, Nye?” Nye looked contemptuous. “If I have Reverend Ryland summoned now, he’ll perform the ceremony at my