Fantasy 03 - Double Fantasy (17 page)

"He often does."

He chuckled, even as he was appalled to note that he didn't move away from her. Like the worst cad, he was leading her on, acting as if he might actually sneak from his marital bed to fornicate with her.

He was so disgusting!

All of a sudden, from inside the manor, an irate female shouted, "Pegeen Riley! Leave my fiancé alone!"

He and Peg froze, then leapt apart like guilty schoolchildren as Anne burst out the door and advanced on them.

"Run, Peg," he whispered. "I'll take care of this."

She flashed a thankful look and slipped down the stairs into the park, racing away like a thoroughbred.

On seeing her go, Jamie sighed, wishing he could have raced off with her.

He wasn't even married yet, and he was already in trouble with his bride. It was a sorry way to begin, and he hoped it wasn't a sign of how the rest of their life would go. Unfortunately, he doubted that he'd ever behave any better. He had no idea how to act like a husband, as Anne was swiftly learning.

She marched up, stopping when they were toe-to-toe, and she studied him as if he were a bug she'd like to squash.

"What was that?" she hissed.

"What was what?'

"Don't play dumb with me, Jamieson Merrick. Have you any notion of how long I've been watching you?" "How long?"

"Long enough for you to make a public spectacle of yourself where the entire estate could see. Why do I feel that I'm living through the same despicable event over and over?"

"She's a silly young girl," he claimed. "Don't work yourself into a lather over it."

"Tell me one thing: If I hadn't come outside just now, how rapidly would you have been out in the woods with her?"

At being apprised of how much she'd truly observed, he could barely keep from wincing.

"Don't be ridiculous. I was teasing her. She's naught but a bit of fluff."

"And what am I in comparison?"

"Well.. .you're Anne."

He thought the comment said it all, but from the hurt expression that crossed her beautiful face, it was clear he'd missed the mark by a wide margin.

"Do you know what time it is?" she snapped. "Ten thirty?"

"We're supposed to marry in half an hour! The vicar is about to arrive. How could you do this to me?"

"What did I do to you? I've merely been chatting with a servant."

Her jaw dropped; tears flooded her eyes. "You are a horse's ass, Mr. Merrick. An unrepentant, unlikable, unpleasant horse's ass."

"I've been called much worse, and if you're going to take that snotty tone with me, it's Lord Gladstone."

"If you ever conducted yourself like a lord, maybe people would treat you like one."

It was the lowest remark she could have hurled, and it cut him to the quick. Not that he'd let her know.

Her attitude enraged him. He wasn't in the habit of permitting others to insult him, and he deemed it quite bold of her. If she'd been a man, he'd have pounded her into the ground. As it was, a muscle ticked in his cheek, his fists clenched with a fury he couldn't vent.

He was aware that he'd behaved badly, but he wouldn't apologize for his natural tendencies, and he refused to be gelded by her. He was who he was. Not a saint. Not a dandy. Not a blushing swain. But a terrible sinner, and she would have to get used to it, because he wasn't about to change. He didn't want to change.

"I won't dawdle out here in the yard, arguing with you," he quietly stated. "Go back in the house."

"You have no intention of being faithful to me, do you? Why am I such an idiot that I can't figure this out?"

"Anne!" he scolded. "I won't discuss such a topic."

"Are the vows irrelevant to you?"

"They will mean everything to me," he brazenly fibbed.

In truth, he believed in nothing and he trusted no one. Vows were inane, given frivolously and without consideration, and while they were uttered constantly, he'd never met a soul who stuck by what was promised.

She scrutinized him, then shook her head. "You are such a liar."

"Go back in the house," he repeated more sternly, nodding to the manor. "I'll join you shortly so we can get started."

"Do you understand how absurd you sound? You can't practice fidelity for a single day, and you think I'll still marry you?"

"I know you will, Anne. You're letting your temper run away with you over a trifle, and I have to tell you that I don't care for it."

"You don't?"

"No."

"Then let me tell you this, and see if you care for it: I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on earth. You can chew on that bit of information while you're standing—alone—in the parlor with the vicar."

His cheeks reddened with ire, as she turned and hurried off, shouting, "Sarah! Sarah! Where are you?"

"Anne!" he commanded in his most authoritative, ship captain's voice, but she just kept going.

W

hat time is it now?" "Eleven twenty." The wedding had been scheduled for eleven, but Anne had meant it when she'd said she wouldn't participate. A union between them was wrong, wrong, wrong! She knew it, but he was so good

at cajoling and demanding that she always ended up relenting.

Well, not again. She wouldn't make such a dreadful mistake, and despite how he nagged, she would stick to her guns.

She gazed over at her sister, then at the locked door that led to the hallway. They were huddled in Sarah's room, sitting on the bed like two women about to be stoned to death.

"How long will he wait before he realizes you were serious?" Sarah inquired.

"For hours. He's so vain, it won't occur to him that I didn't arrive. Then again, perhaps he's holding the ceremony without me. He probably hasn't noticed that I'm not there."

"Are you sure about this, Anne?"

"Oh, Sarah, if you'd seen him with Pegeen!"

"It's a man's way," she gently counseled. "They're like beasts in the field, so a dalliance is insignificant to them. If you care for him—"

"That's the problem. I care for him too much. If I go through with it, he'll break my heart on a daily basis. I couldn't bear it; I'm not that strong, and I won't pretend to be blind to infidelity. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I simply want what's best for you. I always had my doubts that it would be Jamie Merrick."

"He'll be so angry. I don't know what will happen to us now."

"We'll figure it out. I'm acquainted with his brother. He might help us."

"I wish Percy would intervene." "He won't; he's been very clear." "Yes, he has, the rat."

Sarah rose and walked to the window, and she stared out. She looked so sad, so weary.

"Are you all right?" Anne queried. "Anymore, you seem so ... despondent."

Sarah snorted at that; then she peered over. "There's something I've been needing to tell you."

"What is it?'

As if Sarah hadn't the strength to stay on her feet, she collapsed against the windowsill, a palm braced on the wall, and on seeing her so beaten down Anne was frightened. She'd been so wrapped up in her own melodrama with Jamie that she'd scarcely spoken to Sarah in days.

"What is it, Sarah?" Anne soothed. "You can confide in me. It can't be that bad."

"You'd never hate me, would you, Anne? If I'd done something awful?"

Her expression was so bleak that Anne grew alarmed, and she rose, too, and rushed over.

"Hate you? Are you mad?"

"Oh, this is so difficult." Tears surged into Sarah's eyes.

"Go on," Anne urged. "Whatever is it, I won't swoon. You can't shock me."

"Do you remember the year I was sixteen, and I went away to finishing school?"

"Gad, yes. I was so jealous."

"Well... I... I..."

She swallowed twice, about to confess her secret when noise erupted in the hall.

"Anne Carstairs!" Jamie bellowed. "By God, when I find you, I will wring your pretty neck!"

He was marching toward them, checking every bedchamber. A door slammed, then another and another, and soon he was directly outside. He tried the knob.

"Whose room is this?" he asked someone.

"Her sister's," his brother answered.

Jamie pounded on the wood so forcefully that it bowed with the blows. "Anne! You have five seconds to let me in, or I will kick my way in. Do you hear me?"

"Shall I open it?" Sarah whispered.

"No," Anne replied. "Let him make a fool of himself. He enjoys acting like a barbarian."

"Five seconds, Anne," Jamie counted. "Four, three, two, one." There was a pause; then he muttered, "Fine. Have it your way."

A hard jolt sent the knob flying, the wood shattering, and he stormed in, looking magnificent and livid and lethal. Anne imagined this was how his enemies saw him when he was boarding ships and plundering booty, and she had to admit that his reputation for menace was definitely deserved.

With all that visible fury focused on her, she was shaking. While she hadn't thought he'd ever hurt her physically, at that moment he appeared capable of any violence. He stomped over to her, and she flinched, as if expecting to be bit, but no strike landed. He simply towered over her, intimidating her with his size and presence, and it was certainly working.

In such an agitated state, he was fearsome and formidable.

"You're late," he seethed. "Everyone is awaiting you downstairs."

"I told you I wasn't coming."

"So you did. Silly me, I didn't believe you." He gestured to his brother. "Bind her hands behind her back."

Jack stepped forward and produced a length of rope he'd brought for that very purpose. Sarah gasped and wedged herself as a shield between Anne and Jamie.

"What are you doing?" she demanded of Jack.

"She's getting married," Jack calmly responded, "and we won't hear any argument."

"Oh yes, you will!" Sarah hurled. "She's my only sister, and I won't have her miserably shackled to a gadabout roue."

"It's none of your affair, Sarah," Jack warned.

"If it's not my affair, then whose is it? Maybe if your brother could keep his trousers buttoned, we wouldn't be in this fix."

Jamie turned his deadly gaze on Sarah. "When I want to be insulted by you, Miss Carstairs, I'll let you know."

He grabbed Sarah by the waist, picked her up, and set her to the side; then he nodded at Jack to proceed.

"I'm weary of both of them," Jamie said. "Let's finish this."

It was over in a thrice. Jamie gripped Anne's arms and pinned them together as Jack twined the rope around her wrists. With a few quick knots, she was trussed like a Christmas goose. She was so stunned that she didn't even consider complaining. What could she say? The man was a lunatic!

"You can drag me to the altar," she bravely boasted, "but you'll never pry any vows out of me."

"We'll see." The retort sounded like a threat and a promise.

He spoke to Sarah. "After this nonsense, Miss Carstairs, you're not welcome at my wedding."

"That's all right," Sarah fumed. "I have no desire to attend a farce."

"Good. You'll remain up here until I inform you otherwise."

"Yes, my lord and master."

Jamie whirled on Jack. "I'll need you as a witness at the ceremony; then you're to come back up and deal with her. You begged me to let her remain at Gladstone. You claimed you could control her."

"Control me!" Sarah stewed, scowling at Jack.

He seemed chagrined but had no comment.

"She must be made to understand," Jamie continued, "that I will not be thwarted in my decisions. Can you get her to comprehend this fact? If you're not up to the task, admit it to me, and I'll handle her myself."

"She'll do as I say," Jack insisted, "and she'll do it gladly. Won't you, Sarah?"

"Go to Hell, Mr. Merrick," she sweetly replied, batting her lashes at him, showing him that she wasn't frightened in the slightest.

"Come, Anne," Jamie commanded.

He took her arm, and she dug in her feet, making a feeble attempt not to acquiesce. He sighed as if he were the most put-upon husband in the world and she the most shrewish wife.

"You've tried my patience beyond its limit," he pointed out. "You may walk down of your own accord, or you shall be hauled down like a sack of flour. The choice is yours. Which is it to be?"

"I'll walk," she grumbled like a petulant child, and she jerked away and started out.

The two brothers followed her, flanking her on either side in case she made a run for it. In a daze, she trudged down the stairs, stumbling along as if in a dream.

How had she arrived at such a bizarre fork in the road? The parents she'd never known, who'd died when she was a babe, came to mind, and she wondered what their opinion would be if they could see her predicament. Would they be horrified? Would they be enraged? Or would they merely think—as everyone but Sarah agreed—that Jamie Merrick was a spectacular catch and Anne was lucky to have him?

She stepped into the front parlor, where Ophelia, Percy, and Edith had assembled. The cowardly vicar was present, too, but no one else had been invited. They spun as a group, gaping at her with varying levels of incredulity.

Jamie entered and said, "Vicar, you may stay. The rest of you will leave immediately."

Percy had the fortitude to inquire, "Anne, are you injured?"

"No, but if you could just—"

"Be silent!" Jamie snarled, cutting her off.

Percy frowned at Jamie. "Are you sure this is the best way?"

"Out!" Jamie hissed.

Ophelia felt obliged to chuckle and butt in. "She seems a tad reluctant, Jamie. Are you positive you should go through with it? She might murder you later in your sleep."

"Out!" he said again, more loudly, and he swept them all with such a contemptuous glare that they scurried away. Jack slammed and locked the door behind them.

The vicar was standing by the hearth, and Jamie led Anne over.

"Get on with it," Jamie ordered, "and don't dillydally over the words. I want this concluded as rapidly as possible."

The vicar stared at Jamie, at Anne, at Jamie again. He studied her bound hands and gulped with dismay.

"Lord Gladstone," he tentatively ventured, "it doesn't appear that she's willing." "So?"