My Favorite Bride (30 page)

“Yes. Good. But Mara is always going to be the one who tests the limits.”

“I'll need you to help keep Mara on the straight.”

She looked away again.

He took a breath. “Even before I knew about Mara, I knew I had to change. I had to change, or I couldn't keep you with me, and I hated that. It was hard, so I thought I could change a little bit and make you change a lot.”

Amusement and animosity mixed in her until she couldn't tell the difference. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to choke from the pain.

“But you rejected me. I offered my belongings. You didn't care. So I admitted I loved you. You scorned my love.”

She brushed at her eyes. “I didn't want to. No man has ever told me he loved me.”

“So now I'm on my knees. I'm groveling.” He crawled closer, so close he was pressed against her side. “I was wrong about you. I was stupid and pigheaded. I was righteous and self-serving. Please, please forgive me.”

“All right!” She shouldn't have given in. “Of course.” But she couldn't help it. “I forgive you.” She wanted him. She loved him.

“Then . . . won't you look at me?” He spoke softly in her ear, so close his breath brushed against her neck.

She glanced at him, and down at their joined hands.

“Samantha, I can't change the past any more than you can.” With his thumb, he massaged her palm. “All I can do is promise not to repeat my mistake.”

She had to struggle not to snap at him. “Not even a little? Not even in the deepest recesses of your mind? The next time you misplace something, or when a disgruntled servant steals the silverware, you won't secretly wonder if it's me?”

He was silent for so long she longed to shift, to move away . . . to do as he asked, and look into his eyes. When she did, she saw a critical comprehension that made her squirm.

In measured tones, he said, “I guarantee I shall never suspect you of being anything except a beautiful, kind, intelligent woman, because I believe in you. But I can't force you to believe in me.” With a painful grimace, he got to his feet. “No wonder you can't find it in yourself to love me. You doubt my truthfulness and my character.”

“No, I don't! I don't doubt you at all. I . . . everyone else always . . .” She couldn't believe she was saying that. Such a feeble excuse to cover such a great fear. For if she gave herself to William for all time, she opened herself to hurt. It was a gamble, one so great she was willing to spend her life poor and in service rather than take a chance as William's wife.

Except for one thing. She rose, took his wrist in her hand and stared soberly into his face. “I do love you. I've loved you since the first time I looked up at you on horseback and thought you were a dangerous, handsome devil.”

Now he tested her. “You love me enough to trust me with the keeping of your heart?”

“Do you promise to take good care of it?”

“Indeed I do.”

“You would never lie to me.” This time she didn't hesitate. “I love you, and I will marry you.”

Without taking his warm gaze away from her, he called, “Children! Everything's settled. Miss Prendregast has agreed to be my wife.”

They grinned at each other, imagining the children's joy.

“Girls!” he called a little louder.

She glanced around. She was a little surprised they weren't watching from the bushes. “Where are the children?”

“You don't suppose . . . they decided to guarantee the outcome they desired?” He nodded and stroked his chin. “Marvelous tactics. I must compliment them.”

“How would they do that?” Her eyes widened. “By abandoning us in this wilderness?”

He chortled, then with one look at her panicked face, he attempted to sober. “It's not a wilderness,” he said in a soothing tone. “They probably thought that if we were forced to spend the night together, we would have to reconcile. At the very least, we'll be irrevocably compromised and forced to wed.”

She couldn't believe the children would do such a thing. “That's diabolical!”

“It is, rather.” He chortled again.

She glowered. “You're proud of them.”

“Not proud. Not really. Just . . . impressed with their logical thinking.” He cleared his throat and changed the subject. “If we stay on the road, someone should come by in the next couple of days.”

“In the next couple of days?” she shouted.

“If we follow the road, and no one drives by, it
would take us two days—four at the most—to reach Silvermere.” Sliding his arm around her back, he pulled her close against him. “On the other hand, if you trust me, I know a shortcut through the forest.”

His closeness made her dizzy. “How long . . . ?”

“I'll have you home tomorrow morning.”

Breathing hard, she stared at him, then at the green patch of trees that stretched off the side of the road. “Are there wolves?”

“No wolves. No bears. It's safe.”

“We'll starve.”

“I can feed you. Trust me.”

“Where will we sleep?”

With a grimace, he walked to a bag dropped on the side of the road. “I would guess our children left this for us.” He opened it. “Yes. Blankets. Canvas. I'm a soldier. I've built a shelter with less.” Returning to her side, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Think about it. You and I under the stars . . .”

“Moths. Bats. Little creepy crawly things.”

“Darling, when it's dark and you're frightened, I'll do my best to distract you.” He looked down at her.

She knew he was going to kiss her. She knew it was going to be special. She leaned into him, clasped his lapels, turned her head to meet his lips. It was everything she hoped. A sweet mingling of breath, then a sensory feast of lips and tongues, a sharing of pleasure, a sanction of their vows.

“Did that distract you?” he asked.

With her eyes still closed, she nodded.

“Shall we go into the woods? Do you trust me?”

She nodded again.

“That's all I ask.” He flung the strap of the bag over his shoulder and led her into the trees. “Tonight you can tell me why you thought I was such a dangerous, handsome devil.”

If he were lucky, she'd be thoroughly compromised and they'd be married before she discovered a village was only two miles further down the road.

His children weren't the only tacticians in the family.

Christina Dodd is the award-winning author of sixteen romances and short stories in two anthologies. She lives in Sugar Land, Texas.

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Also by Christina Dodd

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

MY FAVORITE BRIDE. Copyright © 2002 by Christina Dodd All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

EPub Edition © SEPTEMBER 2002 ISBN: 9780061794933

First Avon Books paperback printing: September 2002

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