Marriage with a Proper Stranger

by Karyn Gerrard

  “No. Absolutely not. I cannot be beholden to anyone. The debt would hang over my head, and I have no way to reimburse the amount. I could never accept a loan, from you or anyone else.” Her tone was firm and adamant.

  Wonderful. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. How could he ever reveal it was his money and not the baron’s? Tell her now, his inner voice whispered. Before it’s too late. He decided to take another tack. “Have you considered the possibility that we could make this marriage work?”

  She blinked at him, her mouth slightly agape, no doubt from shock—he’d shocked himself. Yes, he’d briefly considered it, but sitting here with her, his emotions in turmoil, the idea held merit. “Hear me out: We get along. As you said, we’re already friends. It is more than some people have. Perhaps more than most.” He took her hand; it trembled in his. “I would never make demands of you, dominate you, or humiliate you. As far as the physical aspect, I’m a patient man, and I would wait until you are comfortable with us—”

  Sabrina pulled her hand from his. Her expression held a degree of horror. “You’re no better than the marquess or my father, after all. You’re trying to…trap me.”

  Damn it, was he? “No. Never.”

  “I don’t want a real marriage. If we do this, it is a temporary arrangement. I must have your word on this, or I cannot go through with it.”

  Well, he’d bungled this thoroughly. A wave of disappointment rolled through him. It appeared he was young and foolish after all. He’d splayed open his heart, literally handed it to her, and she’d tossed it back at him. “My apologies for suggesting it. You have my word. If you wish this to be temporary, then it shall.” He took her hand again, holding it firm. “Allow me to explain about myself. I don’t like being told what to do or being pushed about any more than you do. Nor shall I be told how and what to feel. I will not act as a stranger toward you. I can only be who I am. You must accept this, or I cannot go through with it.” He threaded his fingers through hers. They had removed their gloves when they first stepped into the office, making the touch of skin against skin stimulating—even more heated than when she’d touched his cheek earlier. “Make a decision, Sabrina. Stand up for what you want. For I shall. Every time.” And to my complete astonishment, I want you.

  * * * *

  The way he looked at her. The intensity of his gaze. Sabrina’s mind was in a whirl. Make the marriage work? He’d no idea what she’d endured. Perhaps she should have told him, at least enough to make him understand the reason why she did not want such an arrangement again. This false, transitory marriage she could endure, knowing at the end she could walk away and start her new life.

  Could she take him at his word? He did state this would be temporary…but what if the decision was not theirs to make? Sabrina glanced down at their clasped hands. Her skin burned where he touched her. Her insides were aflame. This must be desire. What else could it be, unless she was suffering from a stomach ailment? I can only be who I am. Why did the statement simultaneously thrill and alarm her? The way he spoke, with such firm conviction, confidence, and emotion…she was not used to it at all.

  Make a decision.

  Her desire for freedom took on fresh significance. This was her plan, and she wanted to be in complete control of it. But whatever power she held over the situation slipped away in Riordan’s presence. Every time he touched her. If she wanted the money and her future, she had to move forward. Make a decision.

  Slipping her hand from Riordan’s, she snatched the pen from the desk, dipped it in ink, and signed the forms. It was done. Sabrina pushed her chair from the desk and stood. “We had best recall Mr. Chambers and Mary and depart.”

  Riordan stood and clasped her shoulders, turning her to face him. “You won’t regret this, Sabrina. It will all work out the way you wish.”

  She walked away from him and opened the door. “You may come in. The forms are signed.” Mr. Chambers and Mary entered the room.

  “Are you well, my lady? You look pale,” Mary whispered.

  Sabrina glanced at Riordan, who stood close to Mr. Chambers. They were deep in conversation and examining the papers. Riordan picked up the pen as Sabrina turned to face Mary. “I’ll be fine. Last minute doubts. Let us get this over with.”

  Within minutes they were strolling down the street to the registrar’s office. Riordan escorted Sabrina; Mr. Chambers walked beside Mary. Once they entered the office and introductions were done, the registrar wasted no time. The words were brief, spoken officiously. They exchanged vows they had no intention of keeping. “Solemnly declare…no lawful impediment…take as your wedded husband…”

  It passed in a blur. Before she knew it, Riordan had taken her hand. “I promise to care for you above all others, to give you my love and friendship, support and comfort, and to respect and cherish you throughout our lives together.” The words brought her up sharp, startling her out of the haze she’d been in. Were these words part of the civil ceremony? Why did they make her heart ache with longing?

  She blinked, more than once, not knowing what to do or say. Everyone looked at her, waiting for a response. “I…promise to care for you above…” Her voice died. She couldn’t remember the rest. Her mind drew a complete blank.

  “All others,” Riordan gently encouraged.

  Sabrina made the mistake of gazing into his striking face. Oh. No man had ever looked at her with such affection before. It was as if he meant the words—no, he acted the part of the eager groom, nothing else. “All others…to give you my…my…”

  “Love and friendship,” he replied, his voice soft and husky.

  This was far more intense than she’d imagined it would be. The air was thick with emotion. With a determined effort, she quickly recited the rest of the words without hesitating. The registrar declared them married.

  Then Riordan cupped her face, his thumbs caressed her cheeks. My heavens, was he going to kiss her? He leaned in close. “I thought a kiss was not part of the civil ceremony?” she whispered.

  He angled his head, a small smile curved about his mouth. “It’s part of this one.” He captured her lips with a bracing, wild kiss she did not expect. Not possessive, but bold and confident, passionate, and she gasped from the pleasurable shock of it. As she gasped, Riordan deftly slipped his tongue into her mouth and swept it about, tasting her, causing her legs to tremble.

  It was over. The registrar offered his congratulations. “My best wishes, Mr. Black. My lady.” The voices grew fainter as the room began to spin. No, she would not swoon. She reached out, looking to grab something to steady herself. Riordan slipped his arm about her waist and pulled her close. His enticing scent of lime and bergamot allowed her to focus.

  “I’ve got you,” he murmured close to her ear. His warm breath fanned her neck, causing the hairs at her nape to stand upright.

  That’s what worried her. Had she stupidly placed herself in the possession of yet another man? A lump formed in her throat. Only this could be the one man she did not want to escape, and the prospect frightened as much as it excited her.

  She was married. To a handsome man who stood as the ideal hero of her youthful dreams. How on earth would she be able to protect her heart?

  Chapter 14

  It had been a long day, with the ceremony, the shopping, and the return trip by mail coach. Luckily, Riordan had arranged for Farmer Walsh, his student Charlie’s father and the farmer who’d boarded his gelding, Grayson, to meet them at the coach stop and escort them home. During the journey the decision was made to escort Mary to the inn first, which meant Sabrina would see to her own preparations for the evening.

  Once they arrived at the cottage and the luggage and shopping purchases were unloaded from the wagon, Riordan thanked Farmer Walsh profusely, then informed the man he’d just been married. Seeing that Walsh had raised his heavy brows at the prospect of Sabrina staying at his cottage, he’d had no choi
ce but to explain. Though he’d asked for the farmer’s discretion, he had no doubt it would be all over the district before tomorrow afternoon.

  Riordan watched the wagon disappear into the darkness, then turned and entered the cottage. Sabrina was nowhere to be found. Seeing the place was small and cramped, there weren’t many places she could hide. He poked his head in the bedroom and found her sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands tightly clasped and resting in her lap.

  “Tired?” he asked, giving her a smile.

  “Yes…and no. I am rather wound up.”

  He understood completely. “I’m about to make tea. Would you care for a cup? I see Mrs. Ingersoll delivered beefsteak sandwiches earlier today. Come and join me, Sabrina.”

  “I thought to take a tray here, in this…room.”

  And, in point of fact, hide. Riordan wasn’t going to have it. “First, I don’t own a tray. Second, Mary is not here to bring it in to you even if I did. I will not act the footman. Wouldn’t know how to go about it, at any rate.” He chuckled. “But I can make tea, and will do so…if you come and sit at the table with me.”

  A sigh escaped her as she laid her hand flat on the quilt. “The bed is quite comfortable.” He would miss his feather mattress, only had it three weeks. “Perhaps I should sleep in the parlor.”

  “Nonsense. What kind of gentleman would I be if I allowed you to sleep on the chaise longue? This bedroom is yours…while you’re here. Make yourself at home.”

  She gave him a brief but tremulous smile. “You are kind.”

  Opening the door wider, he held out his hand. “Let us have a bite to eat. Together.”

  Nodding, she stood and walked toward him, even slipped her hand in his. He was pleased that she’d done it without hesitating; he reveled in the warmth of her touch. He escorted her to the small wooden table and pulled out a chair for her to sit. Then he moved to the kitchen and busily prepared a light meal. After bringing the teacups and saucers to the table, along with the bowl of sugar, he laid the sandwiches on a small platter with pieces of cheese and pickle. Lastly, he brought out the teapot and a pitcher of milk. “Will you pour?” he asked.

  Sabrina nodded, giving him one of her brief smiles. He sat opposite. “How wonderful that you can make tea.”

  “It has been an exercise in failure and triumph. I’ve also learned to fry eggs and ham. Not much else, I’m afraid. It is why Mrs. Ingersoll has been employed by the board—to ensure I do not starve. Now she will cook for two. Mostly meat pies and stews, I hope you don’t mind.”

  She nibbled on a wedge of sandwich. “Not at all. I know nothing of the kitchen.”

  “I do not expect you to learn,” he teased. “I will show you how to use the pump so you can at least fetch water should you need it. Also, there is an outdoor privy, and a chamber pot under the bed. As far as bathing, there is a large copper tub. It’s stored outside in the lean-to. Simply tell me what day you wish to use it, and I will bring it inside before I depart for school.”

  Sabrina sipped her tea. “Good heavens, such a personal conversation.”

  Riordan laid two wedges, cheese, and pickle on his small plate. “Best to get it out of the way, as it is all part and parcel of sharing a living area.”

  She peered at him over the rim of her cup. “And when will you be taking a bath?”

  The air between them snapped with sensual energy. “Well, I would imagine it would be in the evenings. You will have to stay in your room. Unless…” He gave her as sultry a smile as he could muster. “You wish to assist me, scrub my back and the like.”

  He waited for the look of horror. A rebuke for his bold forwardness. Sabrina placed her cup on the saucer. “I’m sure Mary would be thrilled to help you scrub all your bits, including your back.”

  Riordan laughed. “Well done, my lady. Very amusing.” He placed a piece of cheese in his mouth and swallowed. “You recognized the teasing and replied in kind. A good sign.”

  She nodded. “It is a good sign.”

  “Tomorrow is Sunday. I must ask; do you attend church services?” Riordan asked.

  “Not as a rule. The earl did, at Christmas and Easter, and I accompanied him.”

  “Ah. I’m not a steady churchgoer myself; however, I did make a compact with the vicar when I accepted the position of schoolmaster.”

  “Oh? What kind?” She looked at him with genuine interest. How wonderful to have someone to converse with in his lonely cottage. It lessened the homesickness. Someone to tease. A lovely woman to gaze at and admire. And desire.

  “The school’s curriculum caused a good deal of discussion in many quarters. As you can imagine, the vicar pushed for one based in religious studies. I proposed we extend Sunday school instead. The vicar—who, I found, is a shrewd negotiator—agreed, so long as I attend services twice a month, to show a good example for my students. Another of his demands was that school on Sunday must be three and one half hours in duration.”

  Sabrina snickered. “How shrewd.”

  “I must attend tomorrow, and I believe it best you accompany me.”

  Her slight smile disappeared. “I think not. It’s best I stay cloistered away until we are able to obtain the annulment.”

  Unbelievable. “Sabrina, I already told Farmer Walsh you’re my bride.”

  Her eyes widened. “Why would you do such a thing?” Annoyance hovered at the surface of her voice.

  “The farmer witnessed you carrying your luggage into my cabin. Imagine the scandal. Besides, this is a small town; you will be seen. You cannot hide in this place for three months, it is not feasible.”

  Her full, lower lip thrust out in an attractive pout. “Well, I had hoped to attempt it, at least.”

  Riordan took a sip of tea. “Best to appear together and show a brave front. Granted, the town will be abuzz, but they will settle down soon enough. We will be forgotten, and then we will quietly obtain the annulment.” Taking a bite of the sandwich, he chewed and swallowed. “I have to visit Grayson tomorrow. He needs a long run.”

  “Who is Grayson?”

  “My gelding. There is no proper place to keep him here at my cottage, so he boards with Farmer Walsh. When I can spare a moment, I take him out. Exercise for the both of us. Usually on Saturday and Sunday.”

  “Do you have many horses at your family home?” Sabrina asked.

  It annoyed him to have to hesitate and try to figure out how to answer her questions without blatantly lying or exposing his identity. “A few. Growing up there was always a dog and cat underfoot as well. Did you have any pets?” Best to steer the conversation toward her.

  A look of sadness covered her pretty features. “I was never allowed to have a pet of any kind. My father was adamant. The earl would not allow it either.” She paused. “Once I asked for a kitten. One of my friends offered one, as her cat had given birth. My father replied that if I brought the mangy feline home, he would wring its neck and toss it outside for the wild animals to feast on.” She looked away. “I was ten years old.”

  Anger tore through Riordan. “Have I told you how much I despise your miserable father?”

  “He does not inspire warmth, to be sure,” she answered, her voice quiet.

  Damn the man. Riordan now wished he had planted a facer directly on the baron. His grandfather often used the phrase, and it fit here. The baron deserved to be punched—and more. Sabrina’s childhood must have been as cold and lonely as her marriage—which made him all the more determined to draw her out of her protective shell. “Do you ride?”

  “I have, but not since I returned to my father’s. He only has the two horses for his carriage and he refused to allow me to ride them.”

  Yes, the man deserved a pummeling. Riordan reached across the table and took Sabrina’s hand. Again a jolt of sizzling heat tore through him. “Attend church with me, and after we’ll head to the farm. Farmer
Walsh has a fine mare. We can go riding. Say you will.” He could see her hesitation, and gently squeezed her hand. “No hiding, Sabrina. Never again. Time to live your life. Starting now.”

  Another brief, tremulous smile curved about her sensual lips. “You’re right. I will attend church with you, and go riding.”

  “That’s my darling girl.” He smiled broadly as he slowly and incrementally released her hand, trailing his fingers along hers as he’d done before. She seemed to like it, and the blush staining her cheeks proved he was correct. The color was a welcome change from the stark paleness she’d exhibited most of the day. Pleased at her reaction, he snatched another piece of sandwich. “What do you plan to do in the afternoons when you’re alone?”

  Giving a slight movement of her shoulder, she reached for a piece of cheese. “I imagine I’ll do the same thing I have done for the past several years: read. Thank you for assisting me in my selection at the bookshop. I’m looking forward to Wuthering Heights.”

  “Why don’t we read it together, in the evenings? We can take turns reading passages.”

  She nodded, giving him another of her brief smiles. “I would enjoy that.”

  “The books you donated, were they yours?”

  “I must confess, they were from my father’s library. He’ll never miss them.”

  Riordan laughed. “Again, well done. Do you partake in any other ladylike pursuits?”

  It dawned on him that he wanted to know all about her, but was he rehashing the unpleasantness of her past? The last thing he wanted was to churn up terrible memories.

  “When my mother died, I was shipped off to the Blackwell School for Young Ladies. My education before that was sporadic at best; father’s choices for governesses left a lot to be desired. I learned more from reading than I ever did from those dour women.” Sabrina placed another wedge of beefsteak sandwich on her plate. “At the boarding school? They sprinkled a little academia throughout the endless, boring classes of needlework, French, and the pianoforte. I’m afraid I do not excel at any of it.”