Authors: Ruled by Passion
He had known from the beginning that her role of seductress would carry her only to the point where her natural modesty would intrude. He suspected she had reached that point. She no doubt had expected him to be involved by now, taking the initiative. Standing in her chemise, with her hair tumbled about her shoulders, she looked ridiculously young. Her inexperience and insecurity showed in every aspect of her bearing, from the worried look in her eyes to the nervous clenching and unclenching of her laced fingers.
“Proceed, madam wife,” Tenbury taunted again. “You have my complete attention.”
Anne stood dejectedly before him for as he suspected, she had come to a point she had no courage to pass. Why can I never do anything right? she asked herself. She had thought this through carefully before she came to his room. She needed to show him that she cared. She thought if she could reestablish the closeness they had shared that night at the pool ... then perhaps the barriers between them would crumble. But nothing had gone as she planned. She had tried, as Dennis suggested, to follow her heart. It had brought her to this.
As she looked at Tenbury, sitting very much at his ease, swilling brandy as if he had not a care in the world, she realized there could be only one explanation for his behavior.
“You never wanted me, did you?” she challenged. “It was a lie, after all.”
“I do want you—very much.”
“But you walked out on our wedding.”
“Because I wanted you to have a choice! I wanted a willing bride, not one forced to wed me through circumstance.”
“Did my wealth play any part in your wish to marry me?”
“No.”
“I thought it did. The Duke of Chadwicke said many men would overlook my shortcomings because of my fortune.”
“You have no shortcomings, my love.”
“He also said men would pay me effusive compliments.”
He rose finally from his chair and came to her, pulling her down to sit beside him. He collected his brocade dressing gown from the back of the couch and draped it round her, partly because he felt she must be cold, and partly because he found her low-cut chemise and bare shoulders distracting. “I am sorry if you thought the inheritance influenced me. Unfortunately, there is no way I can prove that it did not, since I knew of it before we met.”
“You proved it to me in the chapel, beyond any doubt.”
“And how, pray, did I do that?” he asked.
“By leaving me at the altar. If my wealth had been your motive, you would have finished the ceremony.”
“Are you saying that my outrageous and dishonorable behavior tonight has convinced you that my love is sincere?”
“In a way, yes. That, and several things your mother and Arelia said.”
“You have not explained why you permitted the marriage ceremony to continue after I left.”
“It was Dennis’s idea,” she said, “but I could see it was a good one. As you know, yesterday and this morning were not particularly pleasant for me, what with the robbery, and Jack being shot, then our cold walk and unpleasant accommodations at the Boar’s Head. After all that, I did not much care for being left at the altar. It did not seem quite fair, for I do not feel any of it was precisely my fault, and I would rather not retire to Pentworth House and live in obscurity. If I did so, I doubt I would ever see you again.”
“I was not sure you would forgive me for conspiring with Chadwicke,” he said.
“I realized soon after I left Tenton that you had little choice. You were doing the best you could, within the limits of my grandfather’s directives.”
“I know I have botched this whole affair from the beginning,” he said, “but you must understand something: I have never been in love before. I never knew how strong a force it could be, or how firmly it could take control of one’s thoughts and actions. The day I saw you and Jack kissing, I reacted with scorn and disapproval. I did not realize until much later that my response was rooted in jealousy. Only that night at the pool did I finally understand how much I loved you.”
He paused a moment to take her hand and hold it gently between his. “Anne. That night ... when you were in my arms ... I believed you wanted to be there. You responded so naturally; you felt so wonderful. Was I wrong to think you enjoyed the moment as much as I?”
“No. I did enjoy it. But later, when I took time to consider, I decided my response was one of passion, and therefore not to be trusted.”
His features had passed from faint hope to dejection during her short speech, and she would alter them once more as she continued. “But I was wrong, because I see now that I must have loved you even then, though I—”
What more she had to say would have to wait, for when those words he had hoped so long to hear greeted his ears, he swept her into his arms and silenced her with kisses.
When they emerged from the embrace some minutes later, Anne could see in his eyes that he did not intend to desist for long.
“Perhaps I should mention,” she said, “while I have the chance, that Dennis should like us all to gather again in the morning to complete the wedding service properly.”
“Jade,” he accused, rising to his feet. “You insisted he finished without me.”
“He did. But he also said we should do it again with you present, to be sure all would be right and tight.”
Bending over, Tenbury collected Anne in his arms, then walked with her to his bed and unceremoniously dropped her onto it. “By all that’s holy!” he exclaimed. “I have a lady in my bed who is not my wife.”
“We swore our vows before God,” she insisted, “and to each other.”
“So we did,” he agreed. “And I will do so again tomorrow if Pearce wishes it, and the day after, and every day if need be.”
“I could dress again, and we could collect Dennis and Jack and Arelia and your mother—”
“I have no patience for that,” Tenbury interrupted. “Tonight you will in truth be my wife. Tomorrow will be time enough to worry about legalities.”
Copyright © 1991 by Lois Menzel
Originally published by Fawcett (ISBN 0449217892)
Electronically published in 2012 by Belgrave House/Regency
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.