Page 42 of The Beast of Beswick
He held her stare. “Regardless, we seem to have an indisputable…rapport, and while lust isn’t always a basis for marriage, I’m willing to concede on that point.”
Her cheeks burned at the bald admission, an instant pulse beginning to throb between her legs. “Lust?”
“Yes.” Beswick nodded, answering heat sparking in his eyes that made her already erratic throb deepen. “But this isn’t only about that. If it makes it more palatable, then think of protecting Isobel. Isn’t this what you wanted? I’m offering you both a way out.”
Astrid swallowed hard. He was right. This was what she’d wanted from the start. For Isobel’s sake. But when she’d proposed marriage to him before, she’d meant it to be bound by the practical, sensible terms of an agreement. Before there was any attraction between them and before her decisions had become clouded by sentiment. She knew all too well where such things could lead…and how easily it could turn to heartbreak.
…
Astrid looked so conflicted that Thane wanted to pull her into her arms and kiss her into agreement. However, he knew she had to take the last step on her own. He hadn’t lied about the attraction between them being an incentive for marriage, but his deeper intentions had everything to do with protecting her from Cain.
The moment in the study had gotten away from both of them, and while Thane had not planned for them to be discovered so flagrantly in each other’s arms, the outcome would be the same—a marriage.
“I have new terms,” Astrid said eventually.
“I wouldn’t expect you not to.”
Astrid huffed a breath. “Unlike my previous offer, apart from the necessary consummation of the vows, this will be a marriage in name only.”
“Done.”
“One more thing,” she said, a slight tremor in her voice. “What happened between us here cannot happen again. Kissing, to be clear.”
Before he could reply, Aunt Mabel pushed open the library doors, her face anxious. Though the worry wasn’t for them, it seemed. “Hurry, Beswick, before things escalate further. Culbert and Fletcher are not helping matters, and the viscount is voicing all manner of threats.” She breathed in deeply. “You should also know that Beaumont has arrived with the local parish officer in tow.”
“Beaumont?” Astrid said, striding for the door. “The parish officer? Whatever for? Does he mean to take Isobel?”
Thane opened his mouth to reassure her, but she’d already sped past his aunt, her face drawn with worry. He caught up with her easily, and when they arrived at the entrance to the morning salon, it was complete chaos. Everyone was shouting, the viscount was red in the face, and Beaumont wore his usual sneer. Apparently, the man hadn’t taken his earlier warning seriously. Thane would simply have to be more convincing.
He cleared his throat, and the room fell silent. “We have a wedding to plan.”
The viscount spluttered anew. “Now see here, you bounder, she is my niece. I have the right to thwart any fortune hunters and the like.”
“I beg your pardon, Lord Everleigh.” Aunt Mabel looked down the length of her aristocratic nose at him as if he were lower than a slug. “The Hartes have no need of fortune.”
He reddened but scowled. “The duke falls into the category ofthe like.”
“What do you mean, sir?”
“Look at him,” Everleigh scoffed, his disgust plain. “With a face like that, he’d have to coerce any woman to wed him. There’s no way a beautiful niece of mine would have accepted willingly.”
“She looked rather willing when we arrived, eh, Culbert?” That was from Fletcher, the insubordinate rascal. Thane bit back a smile at Astrid’s instant blush.
“Begone,” Viscount Everleigh said. “Servants have no place here.”
Thane hiked an eyebrow. “You’ll forgive me, Everleigh, if I take offense at you ordering about my staff. Fletcher is more than welcome to share his opinion.”
“Well, I never,” the viscount fumed. “If you think I’m going to give my blessing to this union, you are wrong, sir.”
“Your Grace,” Lady Ashley corrected.
The viscount glowered rudely at her. “What?”
“The duke outranks you and so you must address him as Your Grace, Lord Everleigh,” Lady Ashley said with a sniff of disdain. “It is only proper.”
“I do not approve of your suit,Your Grace,” Everleigh mocked. “The answer is no.”
“We don’t need your approval, Uncle.”
