Read Online Forbidden Fire by Heather Graham - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Heather Graham
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liar playing such a deception as she played.
There was no choice, she assured herself. No choice at all. She had won, she had come here wanting this, and now, surprisingly, she had gained what she wanted.
But very soon, she knew, he would come to the room with a registrar. And she would stand there and vow to be his wife. His wife. Irrevocably tied to the man.
She started to tremble and closed her eyes. She didnât dare keep thinking, and yet she could not stop. What would happen if she were found out? The knot was tangling more viciously with every turn.â¦
Maybe he didnât mean to go through with it. Perhaps he had gone out to order a tray of tea and crumpets. He did not really mean to marry her; he just wanted to agree to give her the chance to realize what she was saying, to back out of it herself.
Which she could do. If she and Mary were caught perpetrating this deception it would be disaster.
He was letting her escape.
Perhaps she did block out her thoughts, for it seemed that he had barely left before he was back. At his side was a stocky little man with wispy gray hair. Behind the man were two womenâa small, pert maid in a white cap and apron and an older woman, also in a cap and apron.
âMy dear,â Ian said, still appearing very much the rake, his shirt opened at the neck, his coat haphazardly over his shoulders and a nightâs stubble upon his cheeks, âthis is Mr. Blackstone, the registrar. And this is Meg, and she will witness the ceremony for me. And this is Lucy, who will also witness the marriage. We do want it to be legal.â
He was not letting her escape.
Marissa tried to smile. She needed to be gracious, to extend her hand to the two women. She couldnât speak. She had barely managed to move away from the doorway at their return. She stared at Ian with wide eyes.
His mouth was set in a grim line, and his eyes were hard upon hers. He said nothing to her, but she knew what he was thinking. She had started this. And now he would finish it.
He would give her exactly what she wanted.
âIt will be just a minute here now,â Mr. Blackstone was saying, setting his briefcase upon the desk. âI need the proper legal documents and my seal. Mr. Tremayne?â
Ian went to the desk and produced the license.
âOh, this is so exciting!â Meg said.
âThrilling,â Ian agreed wryly.
âDid you wish to, er, tidy up a bit, sir?â Mr. Blackstone asked Ian.
Ian rubbed his cheeks. He offered Marissa a smile that didnât touch the fire in his eyes. âNo, thank you, Mr. Blackstone. My wife will be seeing this Yankee mug every morning of her life from here on out. She doesnât mind it a bit, do you, my dear?â
Marissa smiled at last, as sweetly as she could manage. She touched his stubbled cheek and assured Mr. Blackstone. âI canât tell you just how charming I find Mr. Tremayne to be. Kind, solicitousâabsolutely charming. With or without the stubble. Itâs such a noble face.â
âShe adores me,â Ian told Mr. Blackstone.
Meg sighed. Lucy giggled. Mr. Blackstone seemed uneasy.
Ian snatched Marissaâs hand and drew her to his side. âCan we get on with this?â
âYes, yes, of course. My papers are now all in order. I think â¦â
He started to speak the words. Slowly, very slowly. Marissa did not hear them. She felt Ian Tremayneâs hand locked around hers, large, warm, powerful.
She was building prison walls around herself, she realized. This was very real. She would have to travel across the globe with him. Live in his house. Answer to his beck and call.
âAnd do you, Ian Robert, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, from this day forward, till death do you part?â
Marissa couldnât breathe. He would protest now. He would say that it had all been a lark and that he hadnât the least intention of
There was no choice, she assured herself. No choice at all. She had won, she had come here wanting this, and now, surprisingly, she had gained what she wanted.
But very soon, she knew, he would come to the room with a registrar. And she would stand there and vow to be his wife. His wife. Irrevocably tied to the man.
She started to tremble and closed her eyes. She didnât dare keep thinking, and yet she could not stop. What would happen if she were found out? The knot was tangling more viciously with every turn.â¦
Maybe he didnât mean to go through with it. Perhaps he had gone out to order a tray of tea and crumpets. He did not really mean to marry her; he just wanted to agree to give her the chance to realize what she was saying, to back out of it herself.
Which she could do. If she and Mary were caught perpetrating this deception it would be disaster.
He was letting her escape.
Perhaps she did block out her thoughts, for it seemed that he had barely left before he was back. At his side was a stocky little man with wispy gray hair. Behind the man were two womenâa small, pert maid in a white cap and apron and an older woman, also in a cap and apron.
âMy dear,â Ian said, still appearing very much the rake, his shirt opened at the neck, his coat haphazardly over his shoulders and a nightâs stubble upon his cheeks, âthis is Mr. Blackstone, the registrar. And this is Meg, and she will witness the ceremony for me. And this is Lucy, who will also witness the marriage. We do want it to be legal.â
He was not letting her escape.
Marissa tried to smile. She needed to be gracious, to extend her hand to the two women. She couldnât speak. She had barely managed to move away from the doorway at their return. She stared at Ian with wide eyes.
His mouth was set in a grim line, and his eyes were hard upon hers. He said nothing to her, but she knew what he was thinking. She had started this. And now he would finish it.
He would give her exactly what she wanted.
âIt will be just a minute here now,â Mr. Blackstone was saying, setting his briefcase upon the desk. âI need the proper legal documents and my seal. Mr. Tremayne?â
Ian went to the desk and produced the license.
âOh, this is so exciting!â Meg said.
âThrilling,â Ian agreed wryly.
âDid you wish to, er, tidy up a bit, sir?â Mr. Blackstone asked Ian.
Ian rubbed his cheeks. He offered Marissa a smile that didnât touch the fire in his eyes. âNo, thank you, Mr. Blackstone. My wife will be seeing this Yankee mug every morning of her life from here on out. She doesnât mind it a bit, do you, my dear?â
Marissa smiled at last, as sweetly as she could manage. She touched his stubbled cheek and assured Mr. Blackstone. âI canât tell you just how charming I find Mr. Tremayne to be. Kind, solicitousâabsolutely charming. With or without the stubble. Itâs such a noble face.â
âShe adores me,â Ian told Mr. Blackstone.
Meg sighed. Lucy giggled. Mr. Blackstone seemed uneasy.
Ian snatched Marissaâs hand and drew her to his side. âCan we get on with this?â
âYes, yes, of course. My papers are now all in order. I think â¦â
He started to speak the words. Slowly, very slowly. Marissa did not hear them. She felt Ian Tremayneâs hand locked around hers, large, warm, powerful.
She was building prison walls around herself, she realized. This was very real. She would have to travel across the globe with him. Live in his house. Answer to his beck and call.
âAnd do you, Ian Robert, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, to love and to cherish, from this day forward, till death do you part?â
Marissa couldnât breathe. He would protest now. He would say that it had all been a lark and that he hadnât the least intention of
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