The Bad Luck Wedding Night, Bad Luck Wedding series #5 (Bad Luck Abroad trilogy) (14 page)

Gillian stood and raked him with a contemptuous gaze. "Well, blither, I hope you brought another pair of boots with ye. I do believe ye have stepped in the gullion now."

* * *

He finally tracked her down in the muniment room. Standing in the doorway, watching her test the weight of an ancient broadsword, he wondered if he'd be smarter to wait a bit and allow her to calm down before he approached her. He took too long to decide.

She turned to him with a smile. "So," she said brightly, "you intend to annul the marriage?"

Cautiously Nick stepped into the room. "We've left it to drift along for a decade."

"So we have."

After waiting for her to elaborate, then realizing she had no intention of doing so, he observed, "I always expected you to pursue the annulment. Why didn't you?"

Nick wanted an answer to this question. It was an issue he'd pondered long and hard over the years. He understood why he had not pursued the dissolution of their marriage up to now. For one thing, he'd always assumed he'd die in some remote spot in Asia, so he saw no reason to bother with it. He had other reasons, too, more complicated than that, some of them still just a jumble in his mind. They had to do with the letters they'd exchanged, his belief in the honor of his word, and the shadow of a dream dearly held and never completely forgotten.

But what was Sarah's excuse?

"Oh, I did pursue it," she said, figuratively knocking his feet right out from under him. As his brows winged up, she flashed a mocking smile. "Once or twice. I never went through with it, though. I realized I was content with the situation as it stood."

"Why?"

Her shoulders lifted, then fell in a gentle shrug. "I'm happy, Nick. I'm sorry you are not."

"It's not that," he said, scowling. He waited, allowing the silence to lengthen. When she finally met his gaze, he laid it out like a prayer rug. "It's time I had a wife."

Had he not been watching closely, he would not have seen her flinch. Ruthlessly he pressed on. "One with whom I share a continent. A house. A bed."

"Oh." She looked as if she'd sucked on a lemon. "I see."

Somehow he doubted it. "Do you?"

"I'm not stupid, Nick." She shrugged. "You have a lover. Now you want to formalize the relationship."

Damnation. How could she be so blasé about it? Annoyance flared in his gut like a match. Were the situation reversed, he certainly wouldn't be. The thought of Sarah rolling on a bed naked with another man made his stomach turn. But then,
she
was probably accustomed to the idea. "You convicted me of that sin ten years ago, didn't you?"

Sarah schooled her features into a perplexed frown. "Pardon me?"

"Actually, no pardon is involved. I think I've held this against you all these years. Susan Harris, Sarah. I'm certain you remember her. Poor, miserable,
pregnant
Susan Harris."

"Oh, yes. Now I remember."

He'd bet the entire contents of Hunterbourne's library that she'd never forgotten. "Just so you know, I've said all I intend to say on that subject. Not only have I given Susan my word I'll never reveal the truth about her child, I also told you on our wedding night that I wasn't the father of that baby. I gave you my word—one of the few things of value I owned at that point in my life—and you threw it back in my face with your lack of faith. You didn't believe me, believe
in
me. Not enough, anyway."

Caught off guard by the burn of resentment fired by the memory, Nick addressed the question of a lover with less than perfect honesty or diplomacy. "When you eavesdropped this morning upon a private conversation between me and my sisters, you misinterpreted what was said. I have no intention of elevating a mistress to wife. That is not the way to win over the
ton,
and I assure you I will do nothing more to harm my sisters' chances of making the matches they desire."

"Of course. Your sisters." Though her tone dripped sugar, the look in her eyes had turned exceedingly sour.

"My
family,"
Nick warned, meaning every word. "Believe this. I protect my own. I will freely use the power of my name and of my fortune to secure their safety and their happiness. I will guard them like the precious jewels they are. Once they find worthy men and their hearts are decided, I'll do my utmost to make their dreams come true—even to the point of blackmailing a wedding planner into crossing an ocean to help make my sister's day perfect."

"You have made your point. I understand."

"No, I truly don't believe you do. I love my sisters, and I'm thrilled to call them family. But I want more. You see, Sarah, I've spent the majority of the past decade roaming the world. My feet are tired. I'm ready to have a home. My own home and my own family. I want children."

"The heir. Of course. You have a duty to your line."

She smiled at him again, which made him a bit crazy. He marched across the room and loomed above her. He wanted to snatch up that broadsword and break it across his knee. "I have a duty to myself. Yes, I'd like a son. I have six sisters. I'm surrounded by petticoats and perfume. A bit of balance would be nice, but I would joyfully welcome a daughter, too. However, in order to have that son or daughter—a
legitimate
son or daughter—I need a wife."

She patted his arm. "I am certain Lady Iron is a fine choice."

Nick looked down at her hand. Then he lifted his gaze back to her face. His pulse thrummed in his veins. "Steele. Lady Steele."

"Yes. A good fit for you, then."

Nick stared deep into her eyes and saw nothing but sincerity. Dammit, she looked as if she meant it. Didn't she care?

He wanted her to care.

He wanted her to refuse the annulment.

How foolish is that, anyway?

"Well now, I'm glad you told me, Nick. I'm glad it's settled." She idly ran a finger down the hilt of a thirteenth-century dagger. "How long will the annulment process take? Do you truly want me to help with Charlotte's wedding and befriend Aurora, or were those only excuses?"

Her ready acceptance of the ending of their marriage left him feeling thoroughly annoyed. "No, I would appreciate your help while you are here."

"Very well. Why don't you set up a meeting with your attorney as soon as possible?" Her tone was slightly chastising as she added, "And, Nick, you didn't need to go to such lengths. I have no desire to stand in your way."

She excused herself and left him alone in the muniment room. Nick lifted the jewel-encrusted dagger she'd fondled moments before and tested it for its balance. "A nice weapon," he murmured. He tested the blade, felt its bite. "Still sharp."

Not nearly as sharp, however, as the weapon Sarah wielded every time she opened her mouth. The woman had a tongue to slice a man to ribbons. "What a shame."

Nick could think of a dozen different ways to put her tongue to better use.

Emeralds in an engagement ring bring bad luck.

Chapter 8

Sarah dressed for luncheon as though she were going to war.

After the humiliating encounter at breakfast, it had taken all her thespian talents to act nonchalant when Nick trailed her to the room full of swords and armor. Immediately afterward she'd retreated to her bedchamber, where she indulged in a quiet temper tantrum interspersed with a bout of tears.

She felt like such a fool. She'd known that someday this day would come. She had even suspected this might be the reason why Nick had summoned her to Scotland to begin with. So why had it upset her so to hear him talk about marrying another woman?

It wasn't fair for her to act the offended wife. Except for a few brief hours, they'd never had a true marriage. It wouldn't be right of her to sit here now and pretend they had more between them than a legal entanglement, one which she herself had considered ending on more than one occasion. So why the upset? Why the tears? Why the anger?

Why the kiss?

For a little while last night, he'd turned back the clock with his kiss. All the feelings she'd once harbored for him had been reborn with the touch of his lips against hers. She'd always been susceptible to his kisses, and—hang the man—that hadn't changed. It had taken her months to forget how his kisses made her feel. Years. And now she'd have to go and fight that fight all over again.

The louse. If he wanted an annulment, fine. She'd be happy to do whatever was necessary. But he shouldn't have touched her, should never have kissed her. Especially when he had plans to marry another woman. "The cad."

Sarah's pride wouldn't allow her to hide in her room any longer, so she mustered her defenses. First she donned her mental armor by recalling the hurt of his betrayal and desertion. She even went so far as to brush upon painful memories she ordinarily left locked away tight—those of her horrible wedding night.

Thus fortified, she called for a maid to help her slip into the second layer of protection, an attractive Fortune's Design day dress cut in the popular and appropriate military style. Gazing at her reflection in a mirror, she reached up to straighten the gold braid trim and muttered, "If he tries to touch me again, I'll pull out a gun and shoot him."

Of course, first she'd have to find a gun. Maybe she should detour back to that weapons room and grab one of those wicked-looking daggers. She'd show him if he tried anything funny.

"But that's just it," she grumbled to herself. "He isn't going to try anything funny. 'It's time I had a wife,' he said. 'One with whom I share a continent. A house. A bed.' It's not
you
he wants, Sarah, it's Lady Brass."

Reminding herself that was a good thing, she took a deep, bracing breath, then exited her room.

Downstairs, she followed the scent of roasted chicken to the dining room. As she approached, she heard the unmistakable sounds of an argument taking place inside. Sarah's steps slowed as she sought to survey the lay of the land before committing herself.

"Rodney, it is just as I suspected. Lady Charlotte is not worthy of you. One marries more than a person, one marries a family. I'll not see you linked with a family the likes of this one."

Sarah scowled as she stepped closer to hear better. Rodney and Lady Charlotte. Theirs was the wedding Nick had wanted her to plan.

"Now wait one moment, Mother."

Mother plowed on without pause. "I share some responsibility, I'll admit, for remaining abroad so long and not being here to put a stop to this nonsense sooner. However, all is not lost. We can find an honorable way out of this mess. It is a lucky thing you insisted we make this trip north to spend time with Lord Weston's family. Normal social occasions fail to provide the level of intimacy required to sufficiently judge a prospective spouse. However, after spending almost a week with these people, culminating in the arrival last night of a female I can only assume is Weston's paramour, it is clear that Lady Charlotte is a totally inappropriate choice as your wife."

"I do not agree," the young man insisted. "Charlotte will make a lovely wife. I quite adore her. I love her."

The harridan sniffed loudly. "Love has little enough to do with marriage. No, we shall find someone more suitable. Someone whose guardian is not so peculiar as Weston. The man might be a marquess, but I don't trust him. He's not like us."

And that, Sarah thought, was the first kind thing she'd heard the old battle-ax say.

Rodney's mother continued, "In fact, after seeing the way this household is run, the way those girls are allowed such liberties, I feel I should give my circle fair warning to keep their sons away from all these girls. Beauty cannot overcome bad blood."

"And ugliness in the mind is so much more hideous than unattractive features," Sarah murmured. She had heard enough. People like this truly got her back up, and since she was properly dressed for battle and in just the right mood, she decided to launch her own attack. Squaring her shoulders, she swept into the room. "Good morning. Isn't it a most beautiful day? Crisp and clear and clean. Don't you adore the way the sun shines off the snowcapped mountains?"

Rodney's mother puffed out her enormous bosom and glared, "You!"

"Mother," protested the handsome young man.