by Tanya Wilde
“Commendable.”
Willow quelled a shiver at the deep timbre of his voice. Lud, she had to be careful. He might be her husband, but in this matter, he was her adversary. “So what happens now?”
“We attend the wedding breakfast.” His eyes turned frosty. “You will sit, smile prettily, and not mention a word of what transpired today. For all intents and purposes, it was you I courted. As far as anyone is concerned, you were always meant to become my wife.”
You were always meant to become my wife.
In another life, with another man, those words would have melted her insides. From him, only coldness settled in her belly.
“As you wish. But why punish my sister? Won’t that raise unnecessary questions?” Willow attempted to call on his logic.
“It’s a matter of principle.”
“You mean pride.”
“Call it what you wish, the outcome remains the same.”
Oh, it will not, Willow vowed. One way or another, she would change his mind. “Perhaps you can tell me why you wanted to marry in haste in the first place?”
“Perhaps you can tell me the whereabouts of your sister,” he countered.
Willow sighed. The man was determined to be difficult. Not that she could blame him; his pride had taken a blow.
“And just so we are clear, wife,” he said with an infuriating amount of authority, “I am not a man swayed by the tears of a woman, if you were thinking of using them on me.”
“No, I suppose you are not,” she said, sparing a glance at her sniffing mother-in-law. No indeed, he was not. The poor woman had swooned and the only emotion it had elicited from her son was annoyance. Credit, it was annoying, but nonetheless.
Willow studied her husband from beneath the rim of her lashes. Somewhere inside him, an honorable man resided, she was certain of it. Even if it was dim hope, she was determined to find and appeal to that man.
Once again, she found her gaze dropping to his lips and then jerked them down to her hands. She had developed an unhealthy obsession with her husband’s mouth. It was that kiss. Merciful heaven, it had overpowered all of her senses.
She wondered if the dowager would swoon again if the duke kissed her now, right here. Or how would they both react if she kissed him? Willow pushed the tempting image from her mind. There was still a wedding breakfast and her family’s questions to get through. Not to mention, saving her sister from the duke’s plot.
Settling deeper into her seat, she shut her eyes, closing the curtain on his penetrating gaze. If he expected her to wilt under his scrutiny, to bow her head and capitulate, to lay down her arms . . .
She would not give an inch if he did not.
Chapter 4
The wedding breakfast of blazing stares. That had been the total sum of Willow’s thoughts at the wretched affair—and it was thankfully over. It had been quite unnerving to behold. She had never seen so many withering glares across one table. A cold, tiring affair, indeed. But then, that wasn’t surprising given this day had not meant to be hers.
Nonetheless, her beloved cousins, Bradford and Quinn, had taken turns sending her new husband dark, threatening looks. Her father, bless his soul, had shot them warning glances. This, Willow suspected, was to insist on keeping the matter civil—the matter no one had spoken a word about.
But it hadn’t ended there. Poppy had peered with narrowed eyes at the Dragon Duchess whenever the dowager sniffed and groused on about dignity and length of wedding dresses. And between her woeful bemoaning, her mother-in-law made sure to cast Willow dirty looks. As if she alone was responsible for all the wrongdoing in the entire world.
Willow, for the most part, only glowered at Poppy, who purposefully goaded her mother-in-law with snappish remarks about said wedding dress.
St. Ives, for his part, had glared at everyone. Or at least Willow thought he had. In his heart. One couldn’t rightly tell by looking at him, mask and all.
It was fortunate, Willow mused, that no guests had been invited to the breakfast. A detail she had learned the duke had insisted upon. The unspoken truce would never have lasted under the pressure of the shrewd eyes of the ton. And even then, there were servants to be concerned with as far as gossip went—ergo, their silent agreement to not mention Holly’s name. And, Willow thought too that perhaps everyone had tacitly agreed to a small period for emotions to cool, whatever good that had done them.
And Willow supposed no one had wished to incur the wrath of St. Ives since he had every right to be furious. It was inevitable, of course. Everyone had waited for him to explode—which to his credit and everyone’s relief, he had not.
While frosty glares had been the main dish of the day, Willow still held hope that not much lasting damage had been done. Holly was tucked away somewhere safe for the moment and, with time, her husband would come to see reason.
God willing.
So with nothing to be done but wait or join in on the glaring contest, Willow’s thoughts had turned to her impending wedding night. And then promptly turned away.
Towards the champagne.
Glass after glass.
Of course, St. Ives’s hawk eyes hadn’t missed this, and his lips pursed tighter with each sip she took. She noted that small sign of displeasure because, like a moth drawn to a flame, her eyes were drawn to those full sultry lips. And every time she looked at them, she took another sip. It apparently mattered little whether she liked him or not; every time those eyes fell on her, they set her blood on fire.
Then, as if being obsessed with his lips wasn’t enough, she found herself wondering if their consummation would be as hard and unyielding as the man, or if there was another side to him, a more sensual side.
Cue more champagne. But no matter how much she sipped and sipped, her thoughts stayed with her. Indeed, they had accompanied her straight through the breakfast and into her new bedchamber—her present whereabouts—feet planted firmly in the center of the room.
She cast an uncertain glance at the bed, then at the door adjoining their chambers. Would her husband expect her to wait in his chamber? Like, say, reclining on his bed? Naked?
Would he be naked?
Willow was no prude. A child had to be produced in some fashion. But the rest, the little intimate details of the deed, well, that remained a mystery.
She started at the sudden creak of the door. Expecting her husband, she whirled.
Poppy slipped into her room, shutting the door after her. “There you are! I have been looking everywhere for you!”
“Poppy!” Willow rushed over to her sister. “What are you still doing here? I thought everyone had left.”
“They did, well, all except for father and Bradford. They are in the study with your husband, so I decided to loiter around and eavesdrop.”
“Of course you did,” Willow murmured, bemused.
“Not to mention one of my sisters ran off on her wedding day, and the other took her place,” Poppy said, and then made a generous motion toward her face. “And, might I add, all without informing me to ready my jaw movements for the big reveal. Are you all right? I didn’t want to leave before speaking with you.”
Willow collapsed on the edge of the bed. “I’m terribly sorry, Poppy.”
“There is no need to apologize, dear. Just tell me what happened. How did all this come about?”
Willow took a deep breath. “When I went to go check on Holly one last time, I found her quite put out, Poppy. She was in a complete state of panic. Not only did she not wish to marry St. Ives, but she said that he’d deceived her horribly.” She paused, glancing at her sister. “I told her to go and I . . .”
“Decided to take her place?” Poppy said, giving her an appraising look.
“Yes.”
“That does not make any sense. Why would you take her place if he is such a beastly man? Father would’ve made sure she’d gotten out of the marriage if that’s what she wanted.”
“Yes, Father would have. But then, what about
you? Or me? Or even Holly someday? All our prospects—our family name—would’ve been completely ruined. And jilting a duke at the altar...not even we can skirt convention that much, Poppy.”
Poppy sat down on the bed beside her with a huff. “You’re right, Willow. But to marry him? What about the deceit he pulled on Holly?”
“That he’s truly more of a beast than a knight in shining armor, you mean? Anyone but Holly could see that. Granted, the man is as austere as they come—and something about rules, Holly said. But I can handle one man. I didn’t promise to obey him, after all.”
Poppy smirked at that. “I suppose Holly would have run off eventually, but at least this way she might still find the love she is so eagerly in search of.”
“Or she’ll stumble into more trouble,” Willow muttered. “Let us hope for the former.”
“Oh, I wager she will have the time of her life,” Poppy said, blue eyes sparkling. “But what about you, Willow? Now that you are married to the man Holly ran away from?”
With a groan, Willow rose and swept to the window. “Honestly? I have a feeling that he might not be as beastly as all that. I know it’s bizarre to say, given how little I know him, but I just have a feeling. At any rate, I won’t be having the time of my life just yet.” Willow turned to her sister. “Is that odd?”
“Everything about this is odd,” Poppy said, falling back against the pillows. “I spoke to Holly, you know. She was as shocked as I by the turn of events.”
“You spoke with her?” Willow said in a hushed voice, glancing at the adjoining door.
Poppy sat back up. “It’s safe to talk. Father’s with the duke, remember?”
“Right, I suppose the contracts must be amended now,” Willow murmured. “As well as the marriage license.”
“At least you are a duchess, which ought to be some comfort.”
“That is beside the point.”
“It is?” Poppy said with a sly wink. “I reckon the perks will keep you happy, if not your husband’s stellar body.”
“Poppy!”
“The man watched you like a hawk at breakfast, you know. I thought he was afraid you might jump up and run, too.”
“I wouldn’t get very far,” Willow muttered, trying hard not to think about any perks involving her husband. In any case, she had the sense St. Ives would physically shackle her to him if it prevented her from leaving. He had said an annulment wasn’t an option. Whether for pride or his reason for a rushed marriage, he wanted to remain married as much as she did.
“You may be right. I cannot imagine a man like that giving up anything of his.”
Anything of his.
Willow knew she wasn’t supposed to feel a thrill at the word “his” but damn if it didn’t rouse the pressure in her blood. It pained her, this sudden attraction to the duke. A day ago, he had been Holly’s betrothed. It seemed laughable to indulge in fancies about him now when just hours ago any thoughts on him had been dismissive.
“I’m worried about you, Willow,” Poppy murmured softly, crossing over to join her at the window. “I do not wish for you or Holly to be unhappy. It feels like I have lost two sisters this day.”
“You have not lost us, dear,” Willow murmured. “And this was my choice. I could not let Holly marry a man she did not love, not when she had been so hopeful about the subject. And while I did not plan for this to happen, when I was standing there, something came over me, and here we are.”
“Yes, and while I appreciate the sacrifice, I would be remiss if I failed to point out that it’s not too late to run. The marriage has not been consummated, and Father will call for an annulment if you ask him.”
“You just said the duke would not give up what he considers his.”
“Yes, I did. But on this point, the law outweighs his pride. You are my sister, and I want you to be happy.”
“I cannot run now, Poppy, I’ve spoken vows.”
“So unspeak them.”
Willow shook her head, giving Poppy an exasperated look. Her sister, who much resembled her cousin Belle, the Countess of Westfield, for her adventurous spirit, meant well, but she was not being sensible. An annulment would be as bad as a jilting. But, in truth, Poppy also wasn’t aware of the desire that had driven Willow into action—and that was Willow’s fault. It was time she put that to rights.
“I must tell you the whole truth, Poppy. Saving our family from scandal is not the only reason I married the duke. I didn’t just do it for Holly, or you, or our family, I did it for myself, as well.”
“What do you mean?” Poppy glanced at her in confusion. “Oh, you mean because of your potential ruination—”
“No. I mean for me. Because I want a child.”
“You want a child?”
“Yes, ever since I can remember,” Willow admitted. “I thought that if I took Holly’s place I could save our reputations and meet my own wish.”
Poppy shut her mouth. “I . . . I didn’t know. You never told us.”
“It wasn’t significant,” Willow murmured. “Not at the time.”
“Not significant? You commandeered Holly’s wedding. I’d say it’s colossal.”
“When you put it like that . . .” Willow sighed. “I had difficulty in sharing in it. We always talked of adventures and fun, not of marriage and children. So when I saw an opportunity, I took it. I don’t feel guilty for that.”
Poppy lifted her hands in defense. “I am not judging you, Willow. But do you truly believe a child is the answer? Would you not wish to wait for the right man to bear a child with?”
“And who is the right man?” Willow asked in a dry manner. “A man that promises to move mountains for me?”
“Of course not,” Poppy said with a small laugh. “Mountains cannot be moved, but imagine a man who understood you, the real you. That is something to hold out for.”
“It is a lovely sentiment, Poppy,” Willow murmured, placing her hand on her sister’s. “But I have made my choice.”
“All right then, if you are certain, I shall have your back,” Poppy said thoughtfully, and after a moment added, “You know, I should have suspected something amiss when our sister did not endlessly wax poetic drivel about the duke anymore.”
“We did warn her,” Willow said, sliding a stray curl behind her ear. “She has always been prone to fall in love at the drop of a hat. But none of that matters anymore. Our family will be spared from scandal and your chances of making a good match will remain intact.”
“Do not worry about my prospects.” Poppy made a wry face. “The man I choose will be stronger than whatever battering my reputability has undergone.”
“You say that now but what if all of society snubbed our entire family?”
Poppy shrugged. “It will blow over in time when some other scandal explodes and distracts everyone. You know how the people of London thrive on scandal. If anything, we will be invited to all the parties because of the blemish attached to our name.”
“That’s true,” Willow said with a grin before she sobered. “The important thing is to shield Holly from the duke and his wrath. He is demanding she marry his brother, Lord Jonathan.”
“Horrors, no!” Poppy exclaimed, a look of shock on her face.
“Indeed, I shall try and change his mind, but I’ll need time. Speaking of which, you’ve stalled my questions long enough. You spoke to Holly? Tell me! Is she all right?”
“Well, Holly, you will never believe, is with the Marquis of Warton.”
“Warton?” Willow asked, shocked. “That surly man? However did that come about?”
“Apparently he has agreed to whisk her off to the country. Though I overheard one of the servants say that the duke has dispatched men in search of Holly, even the roads to Derbyshire.”
“Have you been eavesdropping the entire morning?” Willow asked, some of the tightness in her chest eased. Warton might be surly, but he was an honorable man and a friend of her cousin Belle’s.
“What can I s
ay? It is a skill.”
“Just the same, of all the outcomes I considered, this one never crossed my mind—Holly running straight from her wedding into Warton’s protection. Now that’s a craft. I thought she’d seek refuge with our cousins.”
A smile twisted Poppy’s lips. “Our sister has found another champion—she must give me tips when this is all over.”
“At least she will be safe, as safe as she can be with the duke after her. Let us hope she does not fall in love with Warton, as well. Just think about the drama.”
“Do not even jest!” Poppy tossed a pillow at her. “She wishes to see you before you leave, Willow. She’s worried about you. Warton shall send a carriage in case you can slip away.”
“I shall try my best,” Willow said, meeting Poppy’s gaze. She wanted desperately to meet with Holly and feared her sister might feel some resentment toward her—that she would not understand what had driven Willow to do the very thing she’d run from.
“Good,” Poppy leaned forward, glancing at the door. “But be careful. I overheard St. Ives order the servants to inform him of your whereabouts at all times.”
Willow’s eyes widened. “And you are only telling me this now?”
“I’ve had other things on my mind, you know.”
“I cannot believe I have become a prisoner in my own home.”
“It sounds rather thrilling to me.” Poppy gave her a devilish smile.
“Of course it would. You are just as bad as Holly!”
Poppy shrugged. “Since you are quite decided on the matter, why not have a bit of fun with it?”
Willow sent her a bemused look. “Do you know the duke does not even know my name?”
“No,” Poppy drew out, this time real shock on her face. “Are you serious?”
“Yes! And when he attempted to guess, he guessed wrong.”
