Page 56 of The Lyon and the Unicorn
“Because I realized I’d never find love in marriage. Not after…” She gestured toward him. “But a man who could prove himself worthy of…ofvi et honorewas a man whom I might be content to surrender my body to, if not my heart.”
“Women enter the Lyon’s Den not to trade inhearts, but in flesh—the purchase of titled men.”
“Not always, Mr. McTavish,” Mrs. Dove-Lyon said. “Some women are prepared to surrender everything they have for a chance at happiness with an honorable man. I pride myself in my ability to ensure that everyone entering my establishment secures the match theyneed—even if, at first, it may not be the match they want.”
“Well, Bessie, I think my daughter is the exception,” the duchess said. “She neither wants nor needs this man. Your matchmaking skills have failed.”
“The contract is signed,” came the reply. “There’s no reneging.”
“Not even if both parties object?” Clara said.
A sliver of pain cut through Murdo’s heart. She justly hated him—but he could bear her hatred more than the prospect of losing her a second time, no matter what his da might say.
That bitter old man had ordered Murdo to secure a rich wife to atone for the dowry he’d lost. And so, Murdo hadfound himself in the Lyon’s Den—where ladies of doubtful virtue purchased husbands.
The Black Widow spoke, unexpected softness in her voice.
“Don’t you trust me, Miss Martingale?” she said. “Duchess, I recall, you objected to the match I secured for you in this very establishment. Yet am I right in thinking that you’re happy with the man you love, and who loves you with all his soul?”
Murdo stared at the duchess. “Ye secured yer match with the dukehere?”
Clara rolled her eyes. “Isn’t that what Mrs. Dove-Lyon just said? What are you, an imbecile? Is that why you Highlanders are so huge and ungainly in body—to make up for your lack of wits? Or perhaps because you have little to no…accoutrements.”
She lowered her gaze to his groin and curled her lip in a sneer.
Her arrow hit home.
“Ye’ve a foul mouth on ye, lass,” he growled. “Ye ken very well I’ve accoutrements in abundance.”
“Drop your breeches, then,” she said. “I’m in need of a good laugh tonight.”
“Now, lass,” he said. “Should ye be speaking to yer future husband with such disrespect?”
“Future husband—ha! You’re too weak bellied to take me for a bride.”
“Strength and honor, lass,” he said. “If ye didn’t want to be ruled by a strong man, then ye shouldn’t have bound yerself to one.” He stepped toward her, and her eyes flared with fear.
He yearned to take her in his arms. But, wildcat that she was, most likely she’d scratch out his eyes.
“Are ye afraid, lass?” he asked.
The defiance returned to her eyes—the strength of will that had captured his heart.
“No,” she said, tilting her chin, “butyouare.”
“I’m afraid of nothing,” he growled, the primal beast within him stirring his cock.
“Prove it.”
He pulled her hard against his chest and crushed his mouth against hers.
A cheer rose from the crowd.
“All hail the mighty unicorn!”
“He’s tamed the wench at last!”
What the ballocks am I doing, claiming her like a savage?
