Flame of Fury

by Sharon Green

  That book was one of the few things that had ever made Rianne cry. She'd been able to feel the abandonment experienced by the girl, the sense of being completely unwanted and unloved. The man had been so cruel to do that to her, using her life to repair his own and giving nothing in return but an empty house and distant, uncaring servants. Rianne, too, would have preferred death to that sort of life, but it had been such a terrible waste. The girl had been willing to learn to love her husband, and had never even been given the chance…

  Rianne, unlike the girl in the book, had no interest in learning to love the man she was being made to marry. He, on the other hand, probably had more than one woman to occupy him, women who had experience in keeping him satisfied. What man with such abundance would want to leave it even temporarily for an inexperienced girl who loathed him? Very few, if any at all, and the brute didn't strike her as someone who denied himself.

  No, her inheritance had to be all he was interested in, and experiencing as little fuss as possible. If she'd responded to his kiss he might have forced himself to make love to her, but without encouragement he would never take the bother. It was certain he was aware of her beauty, but beauty was obviously not his primary concern.

  She stirred again as she remembered that when she'd first seen him it had been like something out of a beautiful book. The tall, handsome stranger showing up from nowhere, to help the beleaguered girl free herself … possibly to fall in love with her as she did the same with him. Now, unfortunately, it was clear this tall, handsome stranger didn't want her at all, not even for his bed. Her stepfather had outdone himself, finding her a husband who didn't even want her body. What a warm, wonderful marriage it would be.

  "Rianne, dear girl, it hurts my heart to see you crying like that," Lady Margaret said as she leaned forward in concern, and for a moment Rianne didn't understand what she meant. Then she realized that tears were trickling down her cheeks, probably from thinking about that tragically sad novel. She used an impatient hand to wipe the tears away, then got up to stalk to the other side of the room. If she managed to be rude enough, Lady Margaret might get discouraged enough to leave.

  But Lady Margaret seemed to thrive on discouragement. She left just long enough to bring back the housemaids, and while she was gone the footman refused to take his eyes off the prisoner. Rianne would have snuck up behind him with a brass candlestick or a water pitcher if she could have, but the man refused to turn his back. By the time it occurred to her that he might have done so if she'd started to get out of her clothes, it was already too late. And what if she'd started to undress and he hadn't turned away…?

  Rianne had spent a good part of her growing years swimming naked with her brothers in the woods, but Angus had eventually put a stop to the practice. She had already become a young lady with a nicely developed body, and he'd explained that he and Cam had also become men. It wouldn't have been fair to any of them to continue swimming like that, not when their bodies might react in a way their minds didn't agree with. They loved her dearly, but they wanted to keep loving her like a sister.

  So Rianne had learned that men's bodies sometimes reacted to the sight of a woman's body and vice versa, no matter how the mind really felt. The knowledge had helped her judge just how near to let her suitors come, which hadn't been very near at all. She hadn't wanted to put herself into the position of desiring someone physically when she couldn't stand them ordinarily even to talk to, and things had worked out well. At least up until now…

  Lady Margaret had bath water brought up despite Rianne's refusal, so Rianne took the cold contents of her breakfast tray and gave them a nice warm bath. Another tray of food was brought just before they brought her wedding gown, and Rianne was so outraged she decorated the gown with every one of the fresh dishes. Her stepfather had had the nerve to copy Rianne's mother's first wedding gown for the daughter to be married in, as pure a travesty of decency as Rianne had ever seen. Her mother had loved the man she married in that gown, just as he had loved her. To soil the memory of something that wonderful - !

  "I think I'm going to faint," Lady Margaret announced weakly with horror at sight of the ruined wedding gown. She'd screamed when it first became clear what Rianne intended and had tried to protect the gown with her body, but hadn't been able to stand fast and let her own gown be ruined. "Yes, I'm definitely going to faint."

  "You'd better do it over near one of the chairs," Rianne responded heartlessly, so far beyond patience with the woman that it was a miracle she hadn't committed murder. "There are no dear, sweet men around to pick you up off the floor."

  "You are the most impossible girl I have ever met," Lady Margaret stated, and at long long last there was anger in her rather than unbearably sickening patience. "I'm going right this minute to that delightful Mr. Machlin, and tell him exactly what you've done this morning. In all fairness he must know what he's taking to wife, and even be given the opportunity to withdraw. If, as a man of honor, he does not, he will certainly give you what you deserve once you're his. I, personally, will insist on that."

  Her parting nod was most emphatic, and then she was sailing out of the room with inflexible determination. Rianne watched her go with sour satisfaction, then went to collapse into a chair to brood. The big brute would never change his mind about marrying her, not even if she swung from one of the chandeliers in the ballroom. It was her inheritance he and her stepfather had to be after, and only marriage would get them that. If anything, he would decide to punish her, but just let him try. Even as big as he was, just let him try…

  Bryan looked around at the beautifully decorated, well-filled chapel, and tried to bring his impatience down to a bearable level. He couldn't believe how intensely he wanted to get on with a ceremony he expected to have annulled in a matter of days, and in all honesty he had to admit that Harding had very little to do with the feeling. It was that girl he wanted to see again, the girl he wanted to talk to. He had also thought of other things to do with her, and had had to remind himself that he had no real intention of staying married to her.

  But thought of those other things had kept him awake long hours the night before, and had refused to let themselves be chased away. What he didn't understand was why he felt like that, as though he were a boy taken with the sight of his first woman. So the girl was beautiful, and had a body that had fit surprisingly well pressed up against his, and was a pure joy to talk to when she forgot she hated him. Was that any reason for him to spend so much time thinking about holding her again, and this time succeeding in coaxing her into responding to his kiss? It was -

  "The bride should be here any moment now, Mr. Machlin," the vicar said softly to Bryan, bringing his thoughts back to reality. "It will certainly be a lovely service, with all those flowers in this delightful chapel. Is there anything you would care to discuss before we begin? You needn't hold back just because I'm not familiar to you."

  "I think not, Vicar," Bryan answered with something of a smile, wondering if the kindly old man had made a guess about the nature of his preoccupation. And as for how lovely the service would be, that remained to be seen. He'd had a visit from Lady Margaret Welford, and the woman had nearly been in tears. His sweet little bride had apparently gotten over her shock from the night before, and had been spending the morning terrorizing half the household. The other half had probably gone into hiding, Bryan thought with amusement, one small part of him admiring the girl. She'd been given no choice about marrying him, but still had found a way to show how much she disliked the idea. You had to admire a person who fought on against overwhelming odds when surrender wasn't an option. They usually didn't survive long, but they always ended on their own terms. That was the part of it Bryan didn't like, the thought of her ending in any way at all…

  "Ah, here we are," the old man said, smiling as Harding appeared at the back of the chapel. "All ready to begin now - "

  The poor man's words broke off as he stared, doubtless seeing the same thing Bryan did. Bryan's delica
te little bride had been escorted in by two of the housemen, and both of them looked as though they'd been through the mill. Rumpled clothes and desperate expressions told him the girl had tried to get away from the men, but that was what they looked like. The girl herself was in a towering rage, and none of Harding's frantic efforts were calming her down. She hated being where she was, and intended for everyone to know it.

  Bryan let his gaze touch her as she and Harding argued, startled to realize that he wanted to go over there and stand beside her against everyone else. It was getting harder for him to remember that he was the one forcing her into marriage, that he was the one whose plans demanded her involvement. He wanted to defend her against all attacks and then carry her off to his house, the way men did in some of those books women read. The only problem with that was the concept called real life, which had a way of ruining a man's best ideas…

  "Uh, here she comes," the vicar whispered, sounding exceedingly nervous, the words more a warning than a statement. Through the buzz of scandalized conversation from horrified guests his bride stalked up the aisle, trailing a stepfather who looked as though he would welcome death by torture if only it would be performed right then and there. The girl reached the altar and stopped beside Bryan, but looked only at the vicar.

  "All right, let's get on with it," she ordered in a growl, making the poor old man jump. "This wasn't my idea, but no one will be able to say it didn't have my touch."

  "My dear child," the vicar began to protest, putting out one hand toward the girl, clearly disturbed. Even a blind man would have known there was something wrong, but Bryan was still stuck with reality.

  "It's all right, Vicar," he said, reaching over and gently forcing the girl to give him her hand. "Both of us are ready, so let's get on with it. I'm sure the lady would rather have you speaking than someone else."

  Bryan hated having to say that, but his bride-to-be did need the reminder. He looked down at her, half-expecting her to turn those blazing green eyes on him, but she didn't. She just stood there stiffly beside him with her eyes straight ahead, and didn't say another word.

  The old man looked back and forth between them, then hesitantly began the ceremony. He seemed to be expecting interruption at any moment, but got all the way through to the end without incident. The bride's responses to his questions were flat with furious monotone, but they were also in the affirmative. When the ring was put on her finger, it had to be all but forced on. At the end of it all, he had no choice but to pronounce them husband and wife.

  "And you may now kiss the bride," he said hopefully, but Bryan smiled without amusement and shook his head.

  "I'll be best off saving that for later," he said, the words sounding ridiculously disappointed in his own ears as he looked down at his new wife. "Shall we go to the reception and thank our guests for coming, dearest?"

  His wife looked around at everything but him and didn't bother answering, but he knew she couldn't ignore his hand wrapped firmly around her arm. He would walk her through the reception and then get her home, back to his house where they could exchange a few words in private. There had to be something he could say to make the situation easier for her, assuming he could get her to listen…

  Rianne spent the short time they were at the reception refusing to speak to anyone or even to acknowledge their existence, which increased the exclamation-filled buzz to a level that nearly drowned out the music. It annoyed her that they all pretended not to know what had happened, that they tried to maintain the lie of being unaware that she'd been forced into marriage. They were so used to the victim going along with the sham quietly and gracefully, letting them pretend they were decent people there to help friends celebrate a happy time. Not one of them had objected to her being forced into something she didn't want, not a single one.

  "Yes, I think it's time my wife and I left," she heard the brute beside her say pleasantly to her stepfather, loud enough for others to hear. His ridiculously large hand hadn't left her arm, and although he wasn't hurting her she couldn't wait until it was gone. "We'll expect you for dinner tomorrow night, around eight?"

  "The pleasure will be mine," her stepfather answered, almost sounding as though he were anticipating something other than dinner. He was still more than a little harried, and hadn't even glanced at her.

  "Until tomorrow night, then," the brute said with a bow, then began dragging her through the shocked and staring crowd. He nodded affably to people as they went, as though it was a willing bride he led outside.

  The coach waiting for them was the same one he'd arrived in the day before, and again Ritchie was there to drive it. The small bearded man stood with his jaw hanging down as the brute forced up her the steps and into the coach, then woke up to close the door when the two of them were inside. Another moment and they had begun moving, and only then was her arm finally released.

  "You should have tried to enjoy the reception," the brute commented mildly, startling her. "Even if none of this was your idea, you still had the right to enjoy it."

  "You're completely out of your mind," Rianne stated, looking up into cool gray eyes with all the disbelief she felt. "You force me into a marriage I want no part of, and then have the nerve to suggest I should have enjoyed the execution celebration? That's the most mindless thing I've ever heard."

  "I've heard one or two worse," he replied, for some reason looking uncomfortable. "Sometimes someone does something that looks really bad to the people around him, but that's only because they don't know the whole story. Once they find out everything changes, but until then he has to live with their low opinion of him. It isn't easy, but sometimes it's necessary. Especially for a man of honor."

  "A man of honor doesn't ever do anything low and vile," Rianne countered, certain about that point at least. "He's always kind and considerate and honorable, and the people around him never have any doubts. Some people, though, pretend to be honorable, but it isn't hard to see through them. Threatening someone to make her do as you demand, for instance, has never been high on the list of honorable endeavors."

  "But people sometimes have reasons for doing things that look dishonorable," he repeated, and now Rianne detected defensiveness in his manner. "When the truth finally comes out and he has what he's after, he's able to show he wasn't being dishonorable after all."

  "Ah, I see," she said with a judicious nod. "Marrying an unwilling woman for her inheritance is a fine and noble act, and as soon as you have my money and estates in your hands you'll prove it. I can hardly wait."

  "So you believe that the only thing I'm after is your inheritance," he mused, now studying her with a definite disturbance in those gray eyes. "Isn't it possible I also want you? When someone bathes and combs you you're not exactly unattractive, I've already mentioned your courage, and occasionally you even show signs of intelligence."

  "Please," she said with a grimace, finally turning away from him in disgust. "I could see from your ardent courtship just how interested in me you were. Whatever women you've been keeping in private are obviously satisfying you, so let's just leave it that way, shall we? It's the only bright spot I've found in this otherwise dismal affair."

  "Do you always use attack to defend yourself?" he asked from behind her turned back, actually sounding curious. "I think I've already said that you're not big enough to make it work right."

  "With the normal part of the world, I'm big enough to do anything I please," she countered again, annoyed that he kept referring to her as small. "I'm not exactly helpless with those who are overgrown either, as they'll find out if they try bothering me. I'm not in the mood to laugh it off."

  "And I'm not used to being threatened," he said, and Rianne couldn't believe he now sounded amused. "I can see that the longer I keep you around, the more used to it I'll get. At least until you learn what a real catch I am."

  Outrageous comments like that couldn't possibly be dignified with an answer, so Rianne simply sat and watched the woods go by. They were almost to the
road that would lead to the brute's estate, and after a short ride they would be driving on his property for a while. Rianne knew these woods, all of them, and wished with all her heart that she could be deep inside them rather than riding in that coach. It was too late to keep herself from being married to a man she detested, but it might still be possible to get on with her life if she managed to escape him.

  And if he didn't have plans of his own that called for her "accidental" death. She'd read a novel about the marriage of an innocent young girl to a man who married women for their gold, and then did away with them when the dowry or inheritance was in his hands. He always made sure the deaths looked accidental, and the young heroine would have become his next victim if not for the man she was really in love with. He hadn't been able to marry her because of a feud between their families, but he continued to keep an eye on her even after she was married to another man.

  Rianne almost sighed at the thought of devotion like that, the kind of support she'd only had from Angus and Cam. It wasn't the sort of thing one usually found in the world, the proof of that clear in the way her former suitors had behaved after the wedding ceremony. Even Jean had been hearty in congratulating the man who had married the girl he and the others had been pursuing so ardently, just as though they were all more relieved than disappointed. Just as she'd always known, every one of them was more concerned about himself than about her.