The Marriage Contract (Marriage #3) - Cathy Maxwell Page 0,10
when he’d become lost in a maze.
He’d actually been searching for Louise Tarleton, one of the group. He’d been infatuated with her almost to the point of madness. Hearing her disdain over what a love-sick fool he was had been one of the most humiliating experiences of his life. Worse, he’d been expected to dance with her that very evening. He’d tripped over his own feet. Made a complete ass of himself.
It was the last Society function he’d ever attended. A week later, he’d kicked the dust of London from his heels and left for the Highlands to discover his heritage and to become a man.
No one laughed at him now. Hard work and age had filled him out. He’d never looked back or even had a desire to…until this moment.
Deacon had been right. Alpina had known what she was doing. This innocent young debutante was more of a threat to Aidan’s senses than the whole English army.
“I’m not ready to marry,” he said bluntly.
She blinked. “But you must. You are. It is your responsibility. You owe it to your title.”
Aidan frowned. “How cold you are. And here I thought women were the ones given to the finer emotions.”
She shook her head in confusion. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Love, Anne.” He said her name deliberately. It felt good on his tongue. Too good. “You’ve heard of love, haven’t you? The singing of birds, the cry of angels, the lament of poets.”
“I understand what love is,” she informed him tartly. “I’ve just never heard a man speak of it.”
“Well, we are poets at heart here in the Highlands.” He paused before adding, “And lovers.”
She did not mistake his meaning. Her face glowed, it turned so bright red, but she did not back down. “I repeat. I have agreed to the terms of the marriage.”
“Yes, yes, yes, and you will be dutiful. Well, I don’t need a dutiful wife—especially in bed. I am a passionate man,” he said almost brutally. “I have plenty of lovers who please me well enough.”
That set her back. She groped for words and then blurted out, “You can still have them. I understand men must have their distractions.”
“Distractions?” He couldn’t imagine Bonnie Mowat or Kathleen Keith or any number of the happily married wives in his clan telling their husbands they could keep “distractions.” But he could see them angrily chasing their spouses with butcher knives.
Her acceptance of such a sham marriage made him angry. Unreasonably so. He embraced the anger as a barrier between himself and the disturbing memories her presence evoked.
Deacon and Hugh had returned with the horses and were busy at the top of the hill preparing the cat’s carcass and the coachman’s body for the return to Kelwin.
Aidan jumped to the ground. “It’s time to leave, Anne. Come.” He held up his hands to assist her.
She didn’t move. “You’re angry.”
Was there a woman in the world more obstinate than this slight Englishwoman?
“When I marry,” he announced proudly, “I will not keep ‘distractions,’ as you so tactfully put it.”
“Because you will marry for love?” Her brows rose in surprise.
“Yes,” he declared—although he’d not really considered the matter before. The devil with it. She might have charmed him momentarily, but she could just as easily prove annoying. “Now, are you ready to leave, your highness, or do you wish to spend the night here? Of course, I can’t guarantee there won’t be another wildcat in the area.”
Her nose went up in the air. “Has anyone informed you sarcasm is the lowest form of wit?”
“My sister, but I never listen to her either. Good night, Miss Anne.” He turned and started up the hill.
“No, wait!”
Aidan stopped. “Yes?”
She balanced on top of the coach, holding her precious documents to her chest. The braid in her hair had fallen completely out and she appeared very young and very defenseless. She compounded the impression by admitting, “I need help getting down.”
He allowed himself one smirk and then returned to the coach. Placing his hands around her waist, he lowered her to the ground. She weighed less than goose down, although underneath her high-waisted dress were some intriguing curves.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“Come along.” He started walking again, but stopped when he realized she didn’t follow. “What now?”
“I need to gather my things,” she explained.
“What things?”
“My clothes.” Her gesture took in the surrounding area. “My dresses and things that fell out of my trunk when it crashed.”
Aidan really hadn’t paid much attention to the bits of material littering