The Bad Luck Wedding Night, Bad Luck Wedding series #5 (Bad Luck Abroad trilogy) (18 page)

She winced. "I don't relish a scandal any more than you, Nick, but neither will I be dictated to. Why would I need your cooperation? I can hire a lawyer of my own."

"Hire anyone you wish. He won't find grounds." Nick pushed to his feet, placed his hands on his desk, and leaned forward. "I will not admit to adultery, nor will you find anyone who will testify to such. Divorce is not an option for you, Sarah. Accept it."

She stood up, placed her hands on the desk, and leaned toward him until they stood nose to nose. "One of Lady Pewter's servants might be persuaded to testify."

"Lady Steele!"

At the mention of Helen's name, Mr. Franklin groaned softly. Nick would have cursed his sisters' big mouths, but he was too busy debating whether or not to close the distance and kiss his wife. He finally decided against it, since he was fairly certain she'd bite him given half a chance. "Any testimony by Lady
Steele's
servants would only support my cause."

Sarah's eyes narrowed. "Then I'll find someone else who will testify against you."

"No, you won't."

Taut silence stretched between them. Nick's gaze dropped to her lips and when she snarled at him again, lust's jagged teeth sank into him and grabbed hold.
A little nip now and then could be rather pleasant.
"Mr. Franklin, would you excuse us for a moment? I'd like to speak with my wife in private."

Nick never looked away from Sarah as the advocate hurried to exit the room. When the door thudded shut behind him, she started and skidded away from the desk. Nick stalked her like prey and moments later had her backed against the bookshelves.

Like most wild things, when finding herself trapped Sarah came out fighting. "I know about England's divorce law. I can charge you with adultery and desertion and win."

"No, lass. You do not want to take it in that direction."

"Are you trying to claim you've not taken a woman to your bed in ten years? I wouldn't behave that even if you talked of conversion and wore a Catholic priest's collar."

Nick's voice deepened. "All I claim is a hunger for you that has never gone away."

When her eyes widened, he softened his tone. "It's always been there, Sarah, no matter where I was or who I was with. I wanted you the first time I saw you, standing in that empty meeting room eating your peach. I wanted you the night we wed when youth and inexperience worked against us. I ached for you the morning you stood in the train depot and handed me my freedom when all I wanted was for you to take my hand and join me. I bought a ticket for you. I honestly thought you'd change your mind and come with me."

She closed her eyes, swayed on her feet. She spoke softly, sadly. "I almost went with you. Oh, Nick, I almost did. I loved you so much I was almost ready to run after you. But when I saw you board the train with her..."

"You did not trust me." He drew his finger across the silk of her cheek and smiled sadly. "I held it against you, you understand, and took the freedom you offered me. But only to a point and not as often as you probably think. Because you haunted me, lass. On a Tibetan mountain slope and in a sultan's palace. In an English ballroom. Especially in an English ballroom. Do you have any clue of how perfectly you would fit amongst the glitter and glamour of that place?"

He moved even closer, and her fresh, familiar fragrance stirred his soul. "I've dreamed of having my turn with you, Sarah lass. I was cheated of it. We were cheated of it."

"No, we chose, Nick. I chose by staying. You chose by leaving."

She was right, and the fact of it combined with the ache in his loins annoyed him. "Aren't you the least bit curious about what I've learned during the time we've been apart?"

"It's not my business. You spoke the truth when you said I gave you your freedom, just as you gave me mine."

That last comment gave him pause. Nick's annoyance deepened into irritation as the picture of her rolling in a haystack with some quick-draw cowboy flashed through his mind. His voice cooled. "Have I misinterpreted the situation? Did you refuse a physical examination because you have—shall we say... taken advantage of your freedom?"

Fire flashed in her eyes, born of anger and annoyance and... hurt? She placed her palms against his chest, pushed hard, then ducked beneath his arms and slipped away. She crossed the room to the desk, then turned to face him. "No, Lord Weston, that's not the reason. The reason is I don't want to be poked at. Not by a physician. Not by a blasted lawyer. And certainly not by you. My word—our word—should be enough, and I'll tell that to any and every officer of the court. However, if in the end, that's what it takes to end this farce of a marriage, I'll do it. You were right. It's time for dreams to die and for us to move on with our lives. The sooner the better."

She grabbed up the pen, then with a flourish, signed her name on the annulment petition. "Your turn."

Nick didn't move. He stood staring at the desk and the papers lying atop it as she spoke of locating the lawyer before fleeing the room. He was still standing and staring a good five minutes later when Mr. Franklin returned.

"Lady Weston said you wished to see me, my lord. She said you have reached an agreement and are ready to proceed with the annulment petition."

Nick sucked a breath of air past his teeth
. Stubborn wench. Damnation. She's signed the papers. Stubborn, obstinate, hardheaded wench.

Standing at the desk, Franklin cleared his throat "If you will be so kind as to add your signature to Lady Weston's, I shall set this matter in motion at once."

Slowly, Nick approached the desk. He reached for the pen. It felt cold in his grip. His gaze lit on Sarah's signature. Bold, he thought, like the woman—except for that particular time when she'd been the very definition of timid.

He found the appropriate line on the document for his own signature, set his teeth, and grimly signed his name.

"Very good, my lord," said Franklin. "I shall depart for London in the morning and file it immediately upon my return. A caution, however, one I perhaps should have mentioned in Lady Weston's presence. You should not expect a swift resolution in this matter. Because of the unusual nature of your circumstances, I fear the legal process will be a protracted one."

"Protracted?"

"Yes, it might very well take months. Lady Weston will need to remain in Britain because the court will no doubt wish to hear her testimony. Also, once the decree is issued, I'll have more documents requiring her signature."

"Months." With that, Nick's thoughts began to race. Months. She'd be with him for months.

He'd never be able to keep his hands off her for months.

He heard the echo of her voice in his mind.
I loved you so much. I almost went with you. It's time for dreams to die.

Or, Nick thought, time for dreams to be reborn.

She'd almost come with him. She'd almost left her life in Texas once. She'd loved him once. Could she feel that way again?

Did he want her to feel that way again?

Aye, he did. He couldn't lie to himself. Hadn't this been in the back of his mind all along? Wasn't this the reason why he'd sent for her, forced her to come to him? He could settle for Helen or a woman like her, but he didn't want Helen. Not the way he wanted his wife. Sarah of the sunshine hair and saucy smile. Sarah of the letters that had warmed his heart on a snowy mountainside. This was why he'd brought her to Britain, even if he hadn't realized it at the time. He'd wanted one more chance with her before settling for someone else.

He still had feelings for her. Not love, he couldn't say that. It was more a sense of unfinished business, of missed opportunities. Missed possibilities. He'd been eighteen years old, lonely and looking for his place in the world when he married her. If he'd loved her the way a man should love his wife, he never would have left her. Although, he had since wondered if their disaster of a wedding night hadn't made his strings easier for his father to pull.

He did know he honestly liked the woman whose letters had followed him halfway around the world. She was warm and witty, caring, intelligent. Spirited. Intriguing. God knows she was desirable.

Nick had a gut feeling about her that was more than simply sexual. His years as an agent had taught him to trust his instincts, and right now those instincts were screaming at him.

He could love this woman. He could love Sarah the way his foster father had loved his foster mother. The way a man should love his wife. And Sarah, this grown-up version of the bright-eyed girl he had married, could love him back. Truly and deeply and forever.

Now it appeared that forever depended on the next few months. Thanks to a protracted legal process, he had time to win her heart. Time to win her trust.

Wasn't it handy that the wheels of justice turned slowly?

Nick handed the document to the solicitor and looked him straight in the eyes. "Time is not a problem. Just the opposite. Return to London at your leisure, Franklin, and do not rush to do the paperwork once you get there. You have my permission—no, my instruction—to put this task at the very bottom of your list."

The solicitor frowned. "I'm confused. I was under the impression you wished this matter concluded as soon as possible. Was I mistaken?"

"No, I was." With his mind on his lady rather than on minding his tongue, he spoke frankly. "As I mentioned earlier, impotence is not a problem. I've wanted that woman for a third of my life. Thinking about her kept me warm when I was trapped on a mountain pass in the middle of a Himalayan winter. Proceed with all possible delay, sir. I've decided I don't want an annulment."

"I shall be a tortoise, sir."

"Good. I do believe with time I can convince the lady to agree with me." He flashed an irreverent grin and added, "You see, Mr. Franklin, while you're being a tortoise, I am going to be a bull."

* * *

Sarah ran up the stairs to her room as if a herd of cattle stampeded at her back. An annulment. She'd signed the petition seeking a marriage annulment.

She thought she might lose her breakfast.

Once in her chamber, Sarah took refuge in her bed, pulling rich floral brocade curtains shut, enclosing herself in a private sanctuary where no one could question the tears that threatened to spill.

It was silly, really. She shouldn't be so upset. She herself had told her husband to send for his attorney. "My husband," she whispered as the first tear slipped from her eye to roll slowly down her cheek. Her husband for a little while yet. After that, she'd no longer be a married lady. She'd be a—what? A spinster? Was there a term for a woman whose marriage had been annulled after a decade?

Yes. The word was
fool.
Sarah's lips twisted in a rueful smile.
Fool
certainly fit. It's what people would say, anyway. Who else but a fool would have been content with a phantom husband all these years?

Not that anyone would know. She couldn't let that happen. The citizens of Texas—Fort Worth in particular—set great store by the vagaries of luck. Years ago, someone had questioned if hiring a wedding planner whose own marriage was unhappy might prove unlucky for a bride. Sarah had seen no option but to create a few stories about her life with Nick—all right, they were lies—so now she could not possibly go home and announce her marriage had been annulled. An annulment would be as bad for her business as a divorce.

"Maybe I'll say he died," she mumbled into her pillow. He died and she married someone else. "I'll be Lady Liesalot."

The tears began to flow faster then as a dozen different emotions bubbled inside her—sadness, confusion, and an odd sense of relief among them. She didn't understand why she felt as she did. She wished she had a friend here to talk with, to help her make sense of all that had happened. Someone like Abigail or Jenny and Claire McBride. As desperate as she felt right now, maybe even her mother.

Under other circumstances, she'd write a letter to Nick Ross.

She'd miss his letters.

She'd miss Nick.

"Don't be stupid," she muttered, sitting up and digging in her pocket for a handkerchief. How could she miss Nick? The man had been out of her life for a decade. He'd been on the other side of the world, for goodness' sake.

On the other side of the world, true, but always in her heart.

While for him, thoughts of her apparently had been centered somewhat lower.
I have a hunger for you,
he'd said.
Aren't you curious about what I've learned?

He'd frightened her. So intent. Almost violent with it. He'd have taken her where they stood, she believed. Right there against the bookshelves, between Milton and Wordsworth. What had stunned her even more was the part of her that wanted to tell him,
Yes, show me.

The repercussions of such a move were enormous. Ridding her of her virginity would also do away with any possibility of annulment. Plus, Nick had made it perfectly clear he would protest a divorce. Why, if she'd gone along with the man today, the lawyer could have gone home empty-handed. Without an annulment or divorce, their situation would have to remain the same.

Their situation would have to remain the same.

The handkerchief slipped from Sarah's hand. Her heart began to pound. If Nick bedded her, he'd have an awfully difficult time getting rid of her.