A Wedding By Dawn. Alison DeLaine

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СКАЧАТЬ crouched down, still facing him, and groped for the powder and shot. “That’s twice in our brief acquaintance that you’ve expressed a desire to see your life end. Hardly a noble sentiment.”

      He inched toward the edge of the bed. “I’ve long since dispensed...with being noble.”

      First one of his legs swung out of the bed, then the other. She still hadn’t found the shot and powder. “Stay where you are,” she warned.

      “Hardly an effective threat under the circumstances.”

      “I shall hit you if I have to.”

      “Will you.”

      “Yes.”

      “With the pistol, I suppose.”

      That hadn’t occurred to her, but, “Yes.”

      He was standing now. Blast it all, where was the shot and—powder horn! Her hand closed around it and she whipped it from the trunk, plunging her hand back in for the shot. This time she found it immediately.

      “Aha!” she said, scooting farther away from him to the dressing table, while he steadied himself against the edge of the bed. “I have them now. If you would prefer to save us time and trouble, you may simply tell me where the contract is and I will retrieve it.”

      “Ah. The contract.”

      Loading a pistol was one thing she could do in her sleep. He took a step forward. She loaded a ball. “Yes. The contract.”

      “You do realize, of course, that destroying it would change nothing.”

      She tipped the powder horn and jammed the ramrod hard. He was halfway across the cabin. “That remains to be seen.” She hoped. At the very least, if he had no copy of the contract, he could not prove he had her father’s consent for the marriage. She leveled the loaded pistol at him. “Find the contract and give it to me.”

      He reached the dressing table. “Very well. But you’ll have to move so I can open the drawer.”

      She stepped back. In the faint moonlight she watched him reach inside, careful not to get close enough for him to grab the pistol from her hand. He held a document up—but not out.

      “Here,” he said. “You may have it.”

      “Hand it to me.”

      “Come and take it.”

      “Ha.” He thought she was stupid. “I’ll not fall for your trap.”

      “Nor I for your threats. Which leaves us...where? You’ll shoot me, I suppose, then tear up the contract and mop up my blood with the pieces.”

      “If I shot you, there would be no need to tear up the contract.”

      He gripped the dressing table and pressed his other hand to his stomach. “Devil take these waves.”

      Was he going to be sick right here? Now? “Give me the contract and return to your bed.”

      “I don’t think I can—”

      Oh, God. He was. “Quickly!”

      He doubled over. “Christ—”

      “No!”

      He lurched forward, but all that projected toward her was his arm, snatching the pistol from her hand. He grabbed her with his other hand and held fast, standing upright now, and plunked the pistol on the dressing table.

      “Pillock!”

      “I believe that has already been established.”

      “Release me.”

      “I’m not a complete fool.”

      He did not smell sick. He smelled of the candied ginger Millie had been giving him to settle his stomach. His grip was warm and tight around her arms. “I do hope you don’t intend to continue burgling into people’s rooms after our marriage,” he growled. “It would be a pity to have to keep you locked away for the rest of your life.”

      It was no less than she would have faced if she’d stayed with Father. “You would need a fortified tower to keep me imprisoned,” she warned. “Or a dungeon.” She would not be locked away again—not by him, or Father, or William or anyone else.

      He eased his grip, smoothing his palms down her arms an inch or two. “Perhaps I shall build a tower just for you.” In the dim light she saw his lips curve, and the hair prickled on the back of her neck.

      “With the fifty thousand pounds you get from Father? I should think most of that will go to Mr. Holliswell.”

      “Indeed it will.” His thumbs moved lightly, caressing the place where her arms pressed against her breasts, and—

      Oh. The sensation of his touch against the sides of her breasts shot through her like fire, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe.

      “I—” Suddenly it was a struggle to form words. “I shouldn’t think, in the long run, it would be worth it. You’ve endured weeks at sea when you obviously can’t stand even five minutes on the waves. Now you’re set to endure weeks more. You’re willing to commit an illegal act—and forcing someone into wedlock does not create a legal marriage, Mr. Warre—and even more than that, once your debt is paid you will still have me to contend with.” His thumbs ventured lower, whispering around her fullest curves. She swallowed. Hard. “You will have me for the rest of your life, which promises to be a considerable amount of time despite your advanced age. You will regret it bitterly, I assure you.”

      “No doubt I will.”

      “A sensible man would change his mind about wishing to marry me.” The ship lolled, creaked. Outside, the nighttime sea splashed against the hull. Her breasts grew heavy with an odd kind of ache.

      “Let us have one thing perfectly clear between us, Lady India. I do not wish to marry you. I need to marry you.” His caress circled up, around. A nerve pulsed in a place much lower, much more secret. “No amount of your hoydenish tricks will change that fact.”

      “Oh, yes—I’m fully aware that I’m to be a casualty of your embarrassed circumstances,” she breathed. His touch lulled her, made her want more, tempted her toward him in ways she couldn’t quite resist.

      “If you choose to see it that way,” he said.

      “That is the only way to see it.” She needed to pull away from him. Now. But the sensations he was creating held her transfixed, rooted to the floor, too willing to debate him. “At least do me the honor of explaining what, exactly, I am to be sacrificed to save.”

      “I have a vision of you trussed like a pig and stretched across an ancient pagan altar.” And oh—his thumbs brushed the tips of her breasts, shooting pure sensation straight to a point between her legs. He leaned close, lowered his voice. “We are talking of marriage, Lady India—a simple contract. In exchange for my protection, you agree not to bring me shame.”

      His words cut through her СКАЧАТЬ