Page 71 of Enticing the Devil

Though his decision to leave England was not a surprise under the circumstances, Anne tensed with delicate distress. Even after all that had happened, she didn’t want him to leave. She realized with subtle shock that she would miss him. “Of course,” she replied, trying to hide her reaction. “I understand.”

Holding her gaze, his scowl deepened as he replied in a roughened tone, “You’ll have to come with me. As my wife.”

Her eyes widened and her stomach flipped as her hand fell away from his knee. “What?”

“There is no way of knowing when I’ll return to England,” he explained in a rush. “It could be months. Or years.”

Anne tried to find some mental purchase within the emotional riot he’d just inspired with his declaration. “I understand your desire to get home, but surely there’s no reason to rush to the altar.” She forced a rueful smile. “I assure you I’ll still be here when you’re able to return.”

“But you’ll be on your own,” he reminded her regretfully. “Without the protection of your father or myself. And”—he paused and his eyes flickered with an odd light before he seemed to force himself to continue in a rough rumble of words—“there could be a child.”

Anne’s body tensed sharply in acknowledgement of his unexpected statement even as her thoughts suddenly flew wildly about. A child. She hadn’t even once considered that. But yes, it was entirely possible.

Oh my.

And why did the thought fill her with such a rush of hope and wonder when it should be fear and uncertainty that claimed her?

She blinked hard, and although she realized by the tightening of his expression that her shock was no doubt quite evident, she couldn’t seem to bring herself to speak.

His jaw clenched and released as he furrowed his brow. Then he lowered his gaze to the grass once again. After taking a deep breath, he spoke in a tone she’d never heard from him before.

“My mother was only seventeen when she had the great misfortune of encountering the prior Earl of Wright at a summer festival. In her youth and innocence, she thought him a romantic hero. A hero who coerced and manipulated her then disappeared. When she learned she was with child, her parents set her from the house. They were barely able to feed the children they had and refused to take responsibility for another mouth to feed.” He cleared the roughness from his throat. “Mam moved about for a bit, doing odd jobs for food and lodging, until she came to a village where the local inn was in need of a laundress. She told everyone she was a widow, but”—his voice lowered with an anger that seemed to come from the very root of his being—“that’s not what they called her behind her back.”

Anne almost reached out to him again, wanted to ease the edge of pain in his voice, but he gave a hard shake of his head and she stilled.

“Though no one said anything to her face, in the privacy of their homes, they were far less circumspect. When I was very young, I believed I could protect her from the evil things the other children said to taunt me. I thought I could be her shield and sword against the cruelty of others.” He shook his head. “I was an idiot. The more I fought, the worse it got. I only proved my savagery as a wretched bastard and the unfairness of it all increased my recklessness and anger. When Mam eventually remarried and we left the village for the farm, I was sullen and angry. But Cedric gave me his last name and became the father my own had refused to be. I can’t imagine the man I’d have become without his guidance...but I’ll never forget the way my mother was treated. Or the fact that I was a constant reminder of the betrayal she’d suffered.”

He lifted his gaze to meet hers. His expression was fierce and a storm swirled in his eyes. His next words came out in a quiet growl. “I refuse to be the cause of such hardship. I’ll not father a bastard.”

Feeling the depth of emotion in his tone, Anne held his gaze as she drew long and steady breaths. She could see it all in him. The anger and pain of his childhood as he fought over and over to protect his mother from the consequences of his father’s callous disregard. His almost furious determination to be better than his sire.

And he was. In a thousand ways and a thousand times over.

She suddenly understood so much more why he’d reacted as he had after they’d been together. It didn’t excuse his decision not to consult her, but it did explain it a bit more.

And now, for whatever purpose toward whatever future, they were inexorably linked. They were to be married, whether sooner or later, and that meant they would need to learn to support each other as true partners. How could she expect it of him if she couldn’t offer it herself? If they were ever to get past the circumstances that brought them to this point, they would have to start somewhere.

“How could we possibly arrange anything so quickly?”

There was an undeniable flash of relief in his gaze as he huffed out the breath he’d been holding. “We already have the special license. I intend to speak with Lord Harte and find out if there is a local officiate who’d be available to perform a hasty ceremony. I hope to leave for Denbighshire as soon as possible.”

She nodded as her thoughts roamed over all of the preparations that would need to be done. Focusing on practical issues helped to keep her from delving too deeply into how she was feeling. “I see. I shall have to start packing. Under the circumstances, the ceremony should be a private affair, but I imagine you’d like your brothers and sister there. And I’d like to have my friends present.”

“Of course,” he replied gruffly.

Shifting to her knees, she began to pack up her art supplies. “You’ll advise me of the results from your conversation with Lord Harte?”

“I will.”

After closing her box and folding the small easel, she began to rise, already thinking of what instructions she’d need to pass on to her maid. When Beynon stood and offered a hand, she placed her fingers in his without hesitation. Tingling warmth instantly ignited across her skin. Her gaze lifted to his as they stood—close but not touching beyond her hand in his.

Holding her fingers firmly, he looked intently into her eyes as he muttered, “No doubt this isn’t the wedding you imagined. I cannot erase my recent errors, but if I had the power to change things, I would.”

Though his words had probably been intended as an apology of sorts, she couldn’t help but hear his own deep regret as she was reminded that he had no true desire to wed her.

Drawing her hand from his, she replied, “As you’ve stated more than once, Mr. Thomas, there is no other choice.” She bent and gathered her things. “Let me know what Lord Harte is able to arrange. I’ll do my best to be ready.”

Without waiting for him to reply, she turned and walked away. Though she kept her gaze steady on the house in front of her, she could still see the aching remorse in his eyes, and it was all she could do to hold back the sadness pressing upward in her chest.

---