Wicked in Your Arms

by Sophie Jordan

  Sev rose to his feet. “This isn’t up for discussion, cousin.”

  “You’re making a mistake.” Malcolm’s eyes glittered brightly.

  “I think not. Even so, it’s my mistake to make. My life.” He held his cousin’s gaze for a long moment. “I’ll hear no more on the subject, Malcolm. I’m going to bed.”

  Turning, he felt his cousin’s stare drilling into his back as he left the room. Taking the stairs to his room, he wondered at Malcolm’s strange behavior . . . wondered if he really knew him at all. Or if he even wanted to.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Sev called upon Grier promptly the following morning. Cleo rushed into her bedchamber to alert her of the fact. She danced lightly on her slippered feet, her deep brown ringlets bouncing over her shoulders. “He’s in the library with Jack. Do you want me to listen at the door?”

  Grier smiled—the first time since last night—imagining Cleo eavesdropping. “No. I imagine they’re discussing the settlement and other matters.”

  She walked toward the window and gazed down at the gardens below, unable to hold her sister’s stare in that moment, reluctant to let her see all her misgivings so plainly writ upon her face.

  She was marrying Sevastian. She would have him . . . the man for whom her heart beat these last weeks. It was exciting and terrifying. She hadn’t been able to catch her breath since last night.

  “I’m happy for you, Grier. You’re going to be so happy.”

  Grier turned slowly to face the sister she’d only recently come to know . . . and realized there was so much of her she still didn’t know. For starters, why she wished to entertain the courtship of a much older man.

  “You think so?” she asked, eyeing Cleo’s fresh young face and loathing the notion of her shackled to the ancient marquis.

  Cleo nodded, her brown waves bouncing over her shoulder. “Yes. You’ve won a prince! You’re going to be a queen, Grier. Think of it!”

  Her stomach heaved. She pressed a hand to her lurching belly. “I’d rather not.”

  “You’ll be a marvelous queen. Think of the insights you will have. All the good you can do.”

  She angled her head, considering that for the first time, and suddenly not feeling so . . . scared anymore.

  “I hadn’t thought of that before.”

  Cleo nodded encouragingly. “You can be a voice for the people. Someone real, not some royal so elevated and removed from the common man’s existence. You’ll be one of them, and they’re going to adore you!”

  Grier dropped her hand from her stomach, suddenly a little more optimistic. She could do something . . . make a difference. Yes. “I shall miss you. You must visit. And Marguerite. Even Jack.”

  “As if you can keep me away. And you know Jack will be there.” Cleo gave her hand a squeeze. “You’ve found your fairy tale, Grier. You’re going to be so very happy.”

  Would she? So much of that seemed wrapped up in whether Sev would be happy with her as his queen. It still seemed an impossibility. Her momentary optimism fled.

  Would Sev wake one day hating her, regretting his impulsive decision to wed her? A knock sounded at the door before a maid entered. “Your presence is desired in the study, Miss Grier.”

  Her stomach plummeted to her feet. She nodded jerkily.

  “Have a good time!” Cleo called cheerfully as she departed the room.

  Grier sent her a bewildered look over her shoulder. Did she think she was going for a jaunt in the park?

  Shaking her head, she descended the stairs, carefully masking her face, for when she first met Sev’s gaze. Would she already see the chill of regret there? Would it begin now?

  Upon entering the library, she saw that it was only Sev. Her father was nowhere in sight as she expected.

  Sev stood at the window overlooking the street. She hovered on the threshold, the only sounds those of the clacking of hooves and the creaking of wheels from outside.

  She must have made a sound that alerted him to her presence. He turned, arms still locked behind him. He looked so stern and forbidding that she blurted the first thought that crossed her mind.

  “We don’t have to do this.”

  He said nothing. Merely gazed at her with an implacable expression on his face.

  She moistened her lips and continued, “I won’t hold you to it. I’ll tell everyone I refused your offer. No one will think less of you.”

  He moved, walking steadily toward her. Her breath hitched as he closed the distance between them.

  Then . . . he walked straight past her.

  She swung around, heart hammering. She watched in bewilderment, her eyes wide and aching in her face.

  Was he leaving? Was this it then? She’d given him the out he desired?

  He stepped from the room, arms extending until he clasped the latch on each door and shut them soundly, closing them in from prying eyes.

  “What are you doing?” She squeezed her hands together in front of her.

  He turned to face her, his gold eyes glinting. “Giving a newly affianced couple a few moments of privacy.”

  “Sev.” She shook her head. “What are we doing? This is madness. Let’s stop this before it goes any further.”

  “There’s no going back now, Grier.”

  “How can you possibly marry me, Sev?” She shook her head and sliced a hand through the air. “Your country needs a proper queen. Not some girl who was a game master in a past life.”

  “I decide what’s proper, do I not? I’ll be king someday. No one’s authority supersedes mine. What is it you’re so afraid of? Who, precisely, do you think will object to you?”

  “Your grandfather—”

  “My grandfather shall have nothing to say once we hand him his first great-grandchild. He’ll be too busy weeping joyful tears.”

  Heat flushed her face and she looked down at her hands, secretly delighted at the mere thought of having a child. Sev’s child. Hardening her heart, she looked back up to stare him in the eyes. “And what if that doesn’t happen? You yourself proclaimed me old. What if I can’t—”

  “And I believe you proclaimed me a jackass,” he cut in. “I rather think you were correct.”

  She choked on laughter even as her eyes burned with tears.

  He strode forward and took her hand. With a tug, he lowered her onto a settee next to him. “It’s too late to go back now, so stop talking about it.”

  “But you didn’t want this—”

  He pressed a finger to her lips. “I want you. More than any other woman I’ve crossed paths with in my search for a bride.”

  She swallowed down the sudden lump in her throat and snatched his finger from her lips. “But I’m not what your grandfather sent you here to—”

  “He can’t object to your fortune.”

  “But he can object to me.”

  Sev smiled then, his lips a crooked grin that made her belly twist. “No matter how much you try, you’re not going to talk me out of this.”

  She sighed in exasperation.

  “Trust me,” Sev coaxed. “Will you?”

  And she wanted to. Desperately.

  I want you. His words almost convinced her. Except she’d heard them before. And she knew a man’s desires changed with the wind.

  If he’d said love . . .

  If she even thought he might love her someday . . .

  Shaking her head, she told herself to stop being fanciful. She hadn’t expected a love match before. She only wanted it now because she wanted a guarantee that he would not one day stare at her with embarrassment and regret. She only wanted it because when that day arrived it would break her heart. A heart that was fully and hopelessly bound to him.

  For a fleeting moment she considered baring her heart and professing her love to him. But she wasn’t that courageous. Or f
oolish. One of the two. She wasn’t sure which.

  Instead she pasted a smile on her face. “Yes. I trust you,” she murmured, wondering if she wasn’t perhaps making the worst mistake of her life. If she shouldn’t perhaps pack up her things and flee to Wales.

  Sev stared at her in such a way that she wondered if he read her mind, if he guessed her thoughts. His next words confirmed this.

  “Run from me, Grier Hadley, and I’ll follow. I’ll track you down and find you.”

  A small shiver scraped her spine.

  “I don’t need to run away.” She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin defiantly. “I’m an independent female. I make my own choices. If I don’t want you, I simply won’t have you. No one can force me to marry you.”

  His mouth twitched and he scooted closer. His warm breath fanned her neck, sending the most delicious tremors rippling through her.

  “If we’re relying on you wanting me, then I won’t need to force you to marry me.”

  Grier choked on a breath. “Arrogant, aren’t you?”

  He looked at her, his gaze rather grim. “We’re both here right now because we can’t help ourselves when it comes to each other.”

  That much was true.

  He continued, “I’m not going to even pretend that I’m doing this against my will . . . that I’m led by honor.”

  She gazed at him unblinkingly, his face so close that their breaths mingled. Hope blossomed in her chest at the possibility that perhaps, just maybe, this wasn’t a colossal mistake. That she could find her storybook ending with a storybook prince.

  Before Sev’s lips touched hers, the door to the library opened. “Ah, just as I expected.”

  Jack rocked on his heels, looking far too pleased with himself as he surveyed them. “Best keep an eye on you two until the nuptials take place.”

  Grier’s cheeks burned.

  Sev rose to his feet. “As discussed, I’ll see the banns posted posthaste.”

  “Very good.” Jack practically rubbed his hands in glee.

  Sev looked back down at Grier. “I’ll call on you tomorrow and we’ll discuss travel arrangements. We’ll be wed in Maldania where my grandfather can attend.”

  Her stomach plummeted at this announcement. To leave her country, the sisters she had just met, would be hard. If only she felt more confident about their match, if it were based on mutual affection, if Sev loved her even a little bit . . . she would suffer no doubts.

  “Yes.” Jack nodded in agreement. “Just as we discussed. A royal wedding in the infamous St. Ignatius Cathedral.” He looked at Grier meaningfully. “I’m told it’s even older than St. Paul’s. A grand event, to be certain.”

  Grier’s stomach twisted so violently she feared she would be ill. A royal wedding. She should have expected no less.

  Only it was easy to forget, here in her father’s library with Sev sitting so close to her, whispering in that low, seductive voice of his, that they were from two different worlds. People with nothing in common between them but desire.

  Desire was fleeting. She knew that from her own father. He’d taken her mother, used her, and then tossed her aside. She inhaled deeply, staving off the burn in her eyes with several hard blinks.

  Sev bowed over her hand, his fingers warm around her chilled ones. “Until tomorrow.”

  Grier watched him depart, wondering how she could feel such love and despair at the same time.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Grier clasped the piece of parchment close to her chest, the words printed there whispering through her head. I long to see you without the presence of others. Meet me outside the back of the house as soon as you can get away. I wait with a carriage.

  “Thank you,” she murmured to the servant who delivered the missive, a small tremor of delight rippling through her. The girl—Marie, Grier thought her name was—ducked her head almost shyly before slipping from the room.

  Grier looked down at the letter again, and a secret smile lifted the corners of her mouth. Over the last three days, she and Sev scarcely had a moment alone. Her father insisted they be seen about Town as much as possible, presenting themselves as the happily affianced couple. But always they were surrounded by others. Grier told herself it wouldn’t be like this after they married . . . that they would have ample opportunity to be alone together then.

  But three days in his constant company and never a word in private, not a touch, not a stolen kiss . . . Her doubts had resurfaced to take hold, and she worried with the whirl of wedding and travel arrangements if a little regret had not entered his head.

  She’d entered a state of breathless agitation. If he had the slightest remorse for his hasty offer of marriage, she hoped he would call a halt to this madly racing train at once. Tomorrow they left for Maldania. The next step toward their real life together. A life that could be hell for both of them if Sev was already regretting their union.

  The letter crinkled against her fingers, reviving her with hope that Sev wasn’t afflicted with regret.

  “What do you have there?” Cleo asked, looking up from her novel, her finger marking her spot in the book.

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing! Nothing made you smile?”

  Grier’s smile only deepened.

  Cleo rolled her eyes. “A love letter from Sevastian, perhaps?”

  “Something like that . . .” she hedged, rising from the sofa. “If you’ll excuse me.” Sevastian waited.

  Cleo waggled her fingers in the air. “Run along, reread your letter in privacy where I don’t have to hear your lovesick sighs.”

  Grier hurried from the drawing room, stopping only to fetch a cloak. Her heart raced at Sevastian’s romantic gesture . . . it gave her hope that what he felt for her was deep and true . . . strong enough to withstand his grandfather’s disappointment. Strong enough to last.

  She earned a few speculative glances as she passed servants on the stairs, but she didn’t let it deter her. She stepped outside the back servants’ entrance and burrowed into her cloak, scanning the narrow alley where deliveries were usually made.

  A carriage idled alongside the wrought-iron gate, the driver blowing into his hands.

  She skipped down the steps and quickly made her way along the path, mindful not to let the iron gate clang too loudly behind her. She gave a quick glance around to be certain that no one lurked about. No servant stood outside. She was all alone in the gray afternoon . . . only a few yards separating her from Sev.

  Her feet flew faster, her heart beating like an anxious drum in her chest. Until this moment she didn’t realize how desperately she needed to see him . . . needed soothing that everything was going to be all right.

  At the carriage door, she hesitated, expecting Sev to reveal himself . . . open the door and greet her, assist her inside with him, perhaps pull her into his arms for one of those kisses that melted her from the inside out. She’d missed his kisses.

  “Sevastian?” she called, looking to the left and right, wondering if she could be mistaken, if this wasn’t his carriage at all and she’d made some kind of mistake.

  A long moment passed until the door finally opened.

  And yet it wasn’t Sev’s face that emerged behind the door.

  His cousin stared down at her with a welcoming smile—a smile that did not reach his eyes. Her heart stuttered in her chest before resuming its beating. Something lurked in those eyes. Something that made her feel decidedly unsafe. The same as when she confronted a wildcat hunting in the mountains back home. He had that same cagey look in his eyes as an animal cornered.

  Only he wasn’t the one cornered.

  “Ah, Miss Hadley.” He leaned out of the carriage. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”

  “Where’s Sevastian?” She looked over his shoulder into the dim confines of the carriage even though she didn’t real
ly expect to see him there.

  “He sent me to fetch you.”

  She felt her brow furrow. “But the letter . . .”

  “The missive was indeed from him.” He nodded jovially, his red hair bright even in the murky air. “He asked that I convey it to you and then fetch you for him.”

  Grier frowned and angled her head, mulling.

  If Sev longed to see her as his letter claimed, why would he have sent his cousin in his stead? It just didn’t sound like Sev. In fact none of this felt quite like something Sev would do.

  Malcolm stretched out a hand to her from inside the carriage. “Come. You don’t want to keep Sev waiting.”

  She shook her head slowly side to side and hedged back a step, now quite convinced something was amiss. The tiny hairs on her nape tingled in an alarming manner.

  Malcolm sighed as if beleaguered and dropped down from the carriage. “Come, Miss Hadley.” His tone cut like the whip of a schoolmaster’s rod and she blinked, her skin shivering with growing alarm. “I haven’t all day to linger here.” He reached for her arm and she jerked it clear of his grasping hand.

  “No, thank you,” she said sharply. “I just remembered I have several things to do today. I’ll wait to see Sevastian at the theater tonight.” Reluctant to turn her back on him, she inched away again.

  She didn’t make it another step before Malcolm lunged for her and grabbed her arm.

  She cried out and shoved at his chest with her free hand. “What are you doing?”

  He ignored her and clamped down on her other arm, hauling her toward the open door of the carriage. She dragged her heels, but her soft-soled slippers slid like butter over the ground.

  “Stop!” she cried, certain Sev was not behind any of this, but her mind didn’t have time to process why any of this was happening . . . why Malcolm would treat her in this rough manner.

  “Stop fighting me,” he panted, locking his arms around her and hauling her off her feet, squeezing her ribs to the point of agony.