Read Online The Viscount's Vow (A Regency Romance) by Collette Cameron - Free Book Online

Even Ian had limits. Crossing to the hearth, he kicked a stray coal into the glowing fire. Resting his arm atop the cherrywood mantel, he stared into the flames. They merrily chased one another, over and around the crackling wood, like impish pixies, as if they hadn’t any cares in the world.
    “It does no good to protest, to proclaim our innocence,” he said, his voice taking on a harsh edge. “In the eyes of the ton , you’re ruined. Disgraced. And only I can rescue you from a life of degradation.”
    “No—”
    Devastation was etched across her beautiful face. She mouthed, “No” again, shaking her head in denial.
    He knew blaming her was unfair, yet there was no other target for his ire. He was being coerced into a loveless marriage, something he vowed he’d never do. Unlike his father, he’d intended to have a degree of fondness for the woman he married.
    To support his debauched lifestyle, his sire had married three times with deliberate intent; to increase his coffers and expand his holdings. And he chose wealthy, evermore dowdy and desperate women, well past the first bloom of youth, to meet that end.
    Two of his wives, including Ian’s mother, died in childbirth, as Roger strove to produce more males for the family lineage. Lucinda escaped that fate by barring his father permanently from her bed the instant she knew she was with child.
    Only three, no it was but two now, of the eight offspring Ian’s father had sired yet lived. With Geoff dead, Ian was the last remaining male in his line.
    Confound it to hell.
    He leveled Miss Caruthers with a fuming stare.
    He’d have to beget an heir on her. A woman he could barely conceal his disdain for. The physical act wasn’t what he objected to—no, she was a tempting morsel. He sank his gaze to her full bosom. A very tempting morsel . He’d no complaints there—none at all.
    But she was responsible for his father’s and brother’s deaths, and what of the on dit concerning her previous indecorous behavior? If even partially true, she might as well be a member of the muslin company, especially with her Romani heritage. Lest he curl his lip and snarl at her, he turned his attention to the crackling fire.
    He stifled his emotions. He was a trained soldier, by God. This marriage was but another battle—another campaign he would win with strategy and logic.
    A log fell, sending a flurry of sparks spiraling up the chimney in wild disarray. A few struggled, sputtering out before being sucked up the flue. Their end was predetermined, as was his.
    Bit by bit, he released a pent-up breath. He hadn’t expected love, but mutual respect and admiration would have been sufficient. He doubted he was capable of truly loving. That emotion left one too vulnerable. He’d never experienced anything beyond a warm regard for a feminine companion, even Amelia. Could be, he was incapable of feeling the much-touted sentiment.
    Just as well. He’d seen what love did to sensible men. It turned them into sentimental chuckle-heads with more hair than wit. He supposed the same could be said of honor. Men did any number of ridiculous things in the name of honor. Geoff had .
    And Ian, more the fool, was no exception.
    Turning away from the frolicking flames, he faced her. Linking his hands behind him, he welcomed the piercing heat of the blaze. It matched the fire searing his soul.
    He repeated, “Miss Caruthers, we’ve no choice but to wed.”
    The bitterness in Lord Warrick’s voice caused Vangie’s breath to hitch, his raw pain ripping at her heart. She stopped protesting. Her mind went numb in shocked dismay and justified anger. There was an unholy ache in her stomach, and with each in-drawn breath, a fresh stab of pain in her vitals. Clutching her stomach, she swallowed against the nausea tickling her throat and roiling in her middle.
    Was she never to be allowed any happiness? Never permitted her choices? Would she always have to submit to the will and whims of others?
    She