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Authors: Cheryl Ann Smith
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soul. “You have had too much darkness in your life. Once your sister has been returned home safely, and we are wed, I will make it my duty to see that you find happiness.”
He crossed his arms. She was like a tiny dog attached to his boot by its sharp little teeth. No matter how much he tried to shake her off, she would not be dislodged. She planned to marry him, and that was that. “I have not agreed to wed you.”
“You will.” She smiled. “I always get what I want.”
There were many ways to respond to her simple comment.Even if she’d not carried the beauty of her mother, he’d still know her as a Harrington. Every one of them was born with a supreme confidence others lacked.
It was time to be honest with her before she turned her thoughts of marriage into a fanciful notion of happily ever after as his viscountess. There was no such thing as true happiness. Life was brutal, and marriage for love was a false illusion.
“I gave away my heart once, Brenna, and will not do so again,” he said, with a harsh sigh. “If I do marry you, it would be a matter of convenience, nothing more. Do not ever expect me to love you.”
T he bluntness of his comment took her aback like a slap. There was no questioning his feelings. When this adventure ended, she’d have a husband to satisfy her father, but Ashwood would not love her. Ever.
She’d not truly considered her life much further than the wedding. She assumed they would eventually grow fond of each other, and that would lead to love. Now even that had vanished under the brutality of his truth.
All her dreams of marrying for love would never come to fruition. Would a loveless marriage be the price worth paying to keep from having to marry Chester Abbot?
She tamped down her misgivings. She had no other options. She’d have to learn to live with her disappointment. “I do not ask for love,” she said, hoping for an emotionless tone. “I have given up on that emotion. All I ask for now is a way out of my dilemma and for children someday. Certainly one does not need affection from one’s husband to accomplish those goals.”
Even as she said the words, defeat filled her. For years she’d avoided the trap of a loveless marriage. Now she’d agreed to one without argument.
“Then we have an understanding,” he said, handing her the flask. “Let us eat. We have miles yet to travel today.”
The bland meal stuck in her throat, to be followed by several more hours of searching, until her hands cramped on thereins and her back cried out for a soft bed. While Richard questioned the innkeepers, Brenna questioned the maids. At the Black Crow’s Inn, she learned about a woman who fit Anne’s description.
“I am not convinced it was Anne,” he said, after talking to the maid himself. “Lockley has taken an interest in her that defies his unhealthy proclivities. I suspect it has to do with her sizable dowry. He will be with her to keep her from changing her mind and fleeing him.”
Brenna led him out of the inn. “Could you be wrong about their elopement? Nothing we’ve learned thus far has led us to conclude they are heading for Gretna Green.”
Richard helped her mount before answering. “I’ve searched hill and dale around our village. I’ve sent men in all directions. There are no clues to lead me to conclude they’ve gone anywhere else but north. Lockley must know I’ll kill him if he ruins her. He will marry her to save his neck.”
“Then we shall continue toward Scotland.” Brenna wouldn’t argue. She knew nothing about Anne. If Ashwood was certain Anne had run off with Lockley, then she would keep her doubts to herself.
The day aged as the sun began to set. They took a room just before dark. The innkeeper assured them he’d not seen Anne. Brenna felt her companion’s frustration.
“We are two days from Scotland and still nothing. And my steward is still missing.” He tossed his pack on the bed. The maids set out food, filled the
He crossed his arms. She was like a tiny dog attached to his boot by its sharp little teeth. No matter how much he tried to shake her off, she would not be dislodged. She planned to marry him, and that was that. “I have not agreed to wed you.”
“You will.” She smiled. “I always get what I want.”
There were many ways to respond to her simple comment.Even if she’d not carried the beauty of her mother, he’d still know her as a Harrington. Every one of them was born with a supreme confidence others lacked.
It was time to be honest with her before she turned her thoughts of marriage into a fanciful notion of happily ever after as his viscountess. There was no such thing as true happiness. Life was brutal, and marriage for love was a false illusion.
“I gave away my heart once, Brenna, and will not do so again,” he said, with a harsh sigh. “If I do marry you, it would be a matter of convenience, nothing more. Do not ever expect me to love you.”
T he bluntness of his comment took her aback like a slap. There was no questioning his feelings. When this adventure ended, she’d have a husband to satisfy her father, but Ashwood would not love her. Ever.
She’d not truly considered her life much further than the wedding. She assumed they would eventually grow fond of each other, and that would lead to love. Now even that had vanished under the brutality of his truth.
All her dreams of marrying for love would never come to fruition. Would a loveless marriage be the price worth paying to keep from having to marry Chester Abbot?
She tamped down her misgivings. She had no other options. She’d have to learn to live with her disappointment. “I do not ask for love,” she said, hoping for an emotionless tone. “I have given up on that emotion. All I ask for now is a way out of my dilemma and for children someday. Certainly one does not need affection from one’s husband to accomplish those goals.”
Even as she said the words, defeat filled her. For years she’d avoided the trap of a loveless marriage. Now she’d agreed to one without argument.
“Then we have an understanding,” he said, handing her the flask. “Let us eat. We have miles yet to travel today.”
The bland meal stuck in her throat, to be followed by several more hours of searching, until her hands cramped on thereins and her back cried out for a soft bed. While Richard questioned the innkeepers, Brenna questioned the maids. At the Black Crow’s Inn, she learned about a woman who fit Anne’s description.
“I am not convinced it was Anne,” he said, after talking to the maid himself. “Lockley has taken an interest in her that defies his unhealthy proclivities. I suspect it has to do with her sizable dowry. He will be with her to keep her from changing her mind and fleeing him.”
Brenna led him out of the inn. “Could you be wrong about their elopement? Nothing we’ve learned thus far has led us to conclude they are heading for Gretna Green.”
Richard helped her mount before answering. “I’ve searched hill and dale around our village. I’ve sent men in all directions. There are no clues to lead me to conclude they’ve gone anywhere else but north. Lockley must know I’ll kill him if he ruins her. He will marry her to save his neck.”
“Then we shall continue toward Scotland.” Brenna wouldn’t argue. She knew nothing about Anne. If Ashwood was certain Anne had run off with Lockley, then she would keep her doubts to herself.
The day aged as the sun began to set. They took a room just before dark. The innkeeper assured them he’d not seen Anne. Brenna felt her companion’s frustration.
“We are two days from Scotland and still nothing. And my steward is still missing.” He tossed his pack on the bed. The maids set out food, filled the
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