Page 81 of A Virgin for the Icy Highlander
“No, Gracie.” Marianne’s breath hitched. “You look far more beautiful than I ever did. And I know I should not say anything, that Papa will not thank me for it, but… it seems such a terrible pity.”
Grace frowned, surprised by her sister’s sudden show of emotion. “What do you mean?”
“You were in love,” Marianne choked out as she fanned the tears from her eyes. “You were in love, and now you must marry that…awfulman.”
Grace whirled around, her hand on her chest to try and steady her breathing. “Who told you that?”
“No one, sweet Gracie,” Marianne replied. “I heard you crying yourself to sleep every night. We received an invitation for your wedding to a Scottish Laird. I didn’t need any more than that to know you were in love. Love is what I hoped for you. Love is the reason I wrote to warn you, though I didn’t truly know what good it would do. But then you found it. You found love, you were to be married to your beloved, and now… there isthiswretched day instead.”
Every breath was a chore, Grace’s lungs collapsing along with her world. It had been worth it to save Ellie, but… with the wedding just an hour away, her courage was failing her. Rather, she’d been holding it together well enough until Marianne went and said all of that.
She nodded. “I do care for him… but it doesn’t matter now.”
“I can get you out of here,” Marianne said, with more fire than Grace had ever heard from her meek older sister. “I have the carriage outside. If we go now, I can get you out of here. I can take you to Scotland. I can?—”
A knock at the door made them both jump.
“I hope everyone is clothed.” Lord Huston’s smarmy voice slithered in before he walked into the room.
His eyes roved over Grace’s body, admiring the gown he had chosen for her, nodding his head in appreciation. With a cold smile, he gestured to Marianne. “Might I have a moment alone with my bride?”
“I do not know if that is appropriate,” Marianne replied.
His smile faded. “Leave us.”
“Go on, Marianne,” Grace insisted. “I will be perfectly fine.”
It is too late to be rescued from this.
She wanted to say as much aloud, but thought it wise not to rile her future husband moments before they were about to be alone together. After all, she didn’t know where he might be concealing a pistol.
Looking like she might burst into hysterics, Marianne rose from the bed and hurried out.
“I see the tears have started early,” Lord Huston remarked, laughing. “I have never understood why anyone cries at weddings.”
Grace glared at him. “I don’t imagine you understand much about emotion, Lord Huston. You would have to be human to understand that, and, as we both know, you are not. You are a beast.”
“Careful, darling,” he warned, sauntering toward her. “I should hate to leave a bruise before you reach the church. My first wife would not behave either. She had to wear a veil throughout.”
A shudder wriggled down Grace’s spine, and her stomach churned. She had tried to tell her father, yet again, what sort of man the Earl of Huston was, hoping she might get through to him at last, but it was all to no avail. He had told her to be grateful, and that had been the end of it.
“Everyone is ready to leave,” he continued, as if he hadn’t just revealed something wretched. “We should not leave your brother and father waiting, as much as I wouldrelisha sample of the evening’s entertainments now. Indeed, I shall enjoy ripping that gown off you, my plump dove.”
Grace swallowed hard.
In truth, it was a miracle that she had made it back to London untouched by his vile hands. The saddle had made him sore, or so he kept complaining, and he had acquired a carriage just a few hours after they left Horndean. From there until London, he stayed on his side of the squabs, whimpering, grunting, and groaning about how much pain he was in.
As if he hadn’t just destroyed her entire life and made her break her own heart.Thatwas true pain, of the rarest and most brutal kind.
“Although I suppose a tiny taste would not do any harm,” the Earl purred as his hand shot out to grab the back of her neck.
She strained against his determined pull, grimacing as he puckered his lips, trying to kiss her. She turned her head this way and that. Her insides squirmed in panic as she pushed with all her might against his chest to get him to back off.
With one desperate shove, a small gap appeared between them, and she took advantage, raising her fist to punch him again.Hewould be the one stepping into the church with a bruise.
But he had learned a thing or two in the past three years.
His hand caught her fist before the punch landed, and his wrist twisted, bending hers until she felt like it might shatter. Blinding pain shot up her forearm. Her breath hissed through her teeth as she tried to bear it.
