“Very good. Now, as to the matter of the marriage, there are certain terms I
demand. I have determined that you will reside at Blessing Park and I will reside in Brighton,” he announced.
“Are you suggesting we live apart?” she asked incredulously.
“You will be perfectly happy in Southampton, I assure you. I, on the other hand,
will be much more comfortable near my business affairs. I see no reason for you
to be there.”
“I will not be sequestered away!” Abbey responded heatedly.
Michael repressed a smile. If the glint of anger in her pretty violet eyes was
any indication, he would have no trouble achieving completely separate lives. In
fact, he might be doing well enough to achieve his ultimate goal of making
her
cry off.
“I expect complete obedience from you. If you are to be my wife, I will determine what is best for your welfare, and I expect you to obey my judgment in
all things. Is that clear?”
Wildly affronted, Abbey gasped. “You think you will know what is best for me
from your superior position in Brighton? Oh, your arrogance is truly astounding,
sir!” She breathed furiously.
“As for household expenses, I will see to it that your needs are met.
Discretionary purchases, such as your clothing, will be made only with my prior
approval,” he continued. Judging from the way her delicate fingers dug into the
cushion on either side of her knees, it looked as if she were having to physically restrain herself from lunging for his throat. He was beginning to enjoy his little charade, particularly since the angry flush of her cheeks made
her extremely alluring.
“Michael Ingram, may I remind you that I come to this… this marriage with a
substantial fortune of my own!”
Michael chuckled with an arrogance she found suffocating. “Your fortune now
belongs to me,” he said with a self-satisfied smile that made her want to claw
his eyes out and, at the same time, sparked something deep inside her.
Slowly
she leaned back against the embroidered cushions of the settee.
She could see what was happening. He was bullying her into some ridiculous
arrangement, for reasons that completely eluded her. Her fingers drummed loudly
on the arm of the settee as she contemplated his motive. Perhaps he did not love
her anymore. It was certainly possible. As she glared daggers into that handsome
face, she thought he should have politely explained to her that he no longer
loved her and even perhaps that he loved someone else. She was not so childish
that she would not understand. She was not some foolish chit who thought grown
men did not have intimate liaisons, nor was she incapable of grasping that his
affections for her may have changed.
He should have politely explained, but no, he was determined to humiliate her so
that she would cry off. But then why didn’t he just say so? she wondered helplessly, until it struck her. It was her money. What was it Aunt Nan had
said? If she refused him, she would lose her dowry. They had all laughed about
it at the time, because it had seemed so patently absurd. But here the monster
sat, wanting her money and not her. With sick regret and fury like she had never
known, Abbey seethed. Oh, no, Michael Ingram, you will not be released so
quickly. No, she would make him suffer before she would even entertain the idea.
She smiled sweetly at him and hoped to high heaven he did not notice the trembling in her limbs.
“So that we are very clear, let me say that I do not relish the thought of being
married under such ridiculous terms,” she said. Her rage threatened to escape in
a shrill scream when he looked inordinately pleased. “Do not misunderstand me,”
she continued softly. “I will not release you from this marriage if my own father begged it of me, which, of course, he cannot do as he is interred somewhere in the West Indies.” She grinned when his smug smile faded.
“That’s
right, Michael. You may keep me in Southampton or keep me in a cage, but I will
not release you!”
Michael blanched at the unexpected turn of his game. Her eyes sparkled like rare
gems as she smiled triumphantly at him.
“Abigail, I am giving you fair warning. I will make your life miserable—”
“I don’t care.”
“I am not a man given to the whims of women. I have no patience for games. You
will do as I say, when I say, and how I say. It is well within my right to
demand such from you, do you understand?”
Abbey laughed at him. “I understand clearly. I just don’t give a deuce about
your terms and conditions!”
Michael’s face darkened and he leaned forward, glaring at her with eyes of cold
stone. “Pay attention to me, Miss Carrington, for I mean every word I say.
You
will know no pleasure, none at all,” he said in a low, threatening voice.
She leaned forward, so that their faces were only inches apart, with an equally
scathing gaze.
“As I mean every word, Darfield!” she whispered heatedly.
Michael stared at her. Good God, but she was openly challenging him. In some
small measure, he grudgingly respected her feisty spirit. He stood and walked
slowly to the fireplace eyeing her like prey. She blithely pretended to be examining the sleeve of her gown. Despite his anger, he could not help appreciating that she was really quite stunning.
Alarmed at what he was thinking, he forced himself to stop his perusal. He decided to make his terms more onerous. “I am not quite finished,” he said
smoothly. She smiled sweetly.
“I will want an heir as soon as is reasonably possible,” he said as he carelessly placed an arm on the mantel.
Abbey giggled irreverently. “And what would you consider reasonable?”
“You know precisely what I mean. I expect you to conceive quickly.” It was an
outrageous statement designed to send her running.
But Abbey only laughed. “I believe you have the upper hand in that, do you not?
Shall I lift my skirts now? Or perhaps you intend to wait until we are actually
married? Is that reasonable? Would you consider that quick enough?”
Michael fought the urge to smile at her equally outrageous remark, especially
when delivered with such an enticingly sweet smile. He forced himself to glower
at her.
“I do not appreciate such inappropriate talk,” he said gruffly.
“I was only responding to your demand. Obedience in all things, is that not what
you implied?”
With feigned indifference, Michael looked down at the toes of his boots.
Bloody
hell, she was gaining on him. He was loath to admit that he had miscalculated
where the little hellion was concerned, but he had one other trick up his sleeve, one that would stir irrevocable hatred in most women he knew. He made a
great show of looking at his pocket watch.
“I really must wrap this up quickly. I have several things to do before I am expected at the home of my dear friend, Lady Davenport, this weekend,”
he said
matter-of-factly, then glanced surreptitiously at her through his long lashes.
Abbey, who thought that had to be the most perfectly ridiculous and transparent
ploy she could have imagined, worked to keep from laughing.
He hesitated, waiting for her reaction. When he got none, he continued.
“While
you are in the country, I insist you do nothing to sully my honor or your good
reputation—I am, of course, assuming it is a good reputation.”
Abbey managed to maintain her serene expression, but her hand tightened into a
fist in her lap. Michael turned his face slightly so she would not see his thin
smile. If he could have patted himself on the back for the last word, he would
have.
“You flatter me, sir! I don’t have one as yet, but I do not doubt whatever reputation I gain will be inextricably linked to your good name.” A devilish little smile played on her lips as she slowly lifted her gaze to his.
Michael lifted a brow. “I believe you have just thrown down the gauntlet, Abigail.”
“Oh, no, sir—you did! I merely picked it up.”
The smell of defeat at his own game was beginning to irritate him. With a frown,
he considered her for a long moment. Despite her ability to play the game, her
violet eyes exposed an odd mixture of anger and hurt. He could hardly blame her;
he himself would not have believed he could be such a cad, but circumstances had
forced him. He decided to make one last attempt, and in three strides, he
moved
to stand directly in front of her, peering down at her with his fists planted on
his hips and as grim a face as he could muster.
“I strongly recommend you not fight me on this; you cannot possibly win. I do
not desire a wife, and if I am forced to keep a wife, I will exact my revenge on
you every waking hour. Think long and hard about what I’ve said before you make
up your mind, Abigail.”
“You should have thought about that before you signed that silly agreement, or
whatever it was,” she responded quietly. His eyes narrowed with undisguised
rancor. She stood unsteadily. “If you will excuse me, I think I should like to
freshen up. Anything would be infinitely more pleasurable than this interview.”
She looked him directly in the eye, brazenly daring him to say anything more.
The sparkle in those angry violet eyes captivated him. He surprised himself by
suddenly catching her upper arms and jerking her to his chest. Abbey flung her
arms wildly, but he easily caught them and pinned them behind her back.
He held
her close, her slender body pressed against the full length of his hard, muscular frame. His gaze swept from her flashing eyes to her mouth, pursed with
fear.
“I am not given to assaulting women, if I correctly interpret that look. But you
will be my wife, and I will touch you whenever I please.” Fear clouded her eyes
and he took pity. He continued, a little more softly. “Abigail, your father’s will is clear in its stipulations. If we do not marry, your father’s business associates will not receive their shares. My father’s debts cannot be repaid. My
family will lose our ancestral home and you will lose your dowry. But I can settle all of that if only you will agree to end this so that we can lead our lives as we wish. I will attempt to settle a sum upon you to compensate the loss
of your dowry if you will but end this now.”
Abbey could not think straight and stared helplessly at him. He seemed different
now, almost sad. What game was he playing with her? Whatever his motives, she
did not want to be chained to a man who did not want her and openly resented
her. Her eyes stung with tears of bitter disappointment; she blinked and looked
down. Michael gingerly slipped two fingers under her chin and tilted her face up
to his.
‘ 7 think I hate you,’‘ she whispered before he could speak. A raw emotion flashed in his gray eyes just before his mouth swept down on hers. It happened
so swiftly and so brutally that she could not react. He crushed her to him, pressing her into his hard chest and thighs. His tongue battered at her lips,
insisting she open to him. Abbey struggled, but Michael pulled her even closer
than she thought possible. His body, hard and lean, burned her like an open
flame. Squirming against him, she gasped for air, and Michael plunged his tongue
inside her soft, sweet mouth.
Abbey was immediately caught in a gulf between fear and a depth of emotion she
could not possibly understand. His mouth was cruel until the roiling emotions
crashing through her made her relent. Then he softened, his lips carefully molding hers, his tongue gently probing, willing her to him. Humiliated and deeply hurt, Abbey felt a single hot tear fall down her cheek, followed by the
tender stroke of Michael’s thumb as he swept it away. His kiss was drugging her,
sweeping her from reality, sparking a flame in her she had never before felt.
The assault on her senses seemed endless, and when he at last lifted his head, a
shiver coursed her spine and made her shudder violently.
She had never been kissed, not like that. Stunned, Abbey could do nothing but
stare at his lips, conscious of a lingering warmth that spread slowly down
to
her toes. He was smiling down at her, a cocky, self-assured smile, and as the
magic of the kiss began to wear off, she slowly grew embarrassed and resentful.
It was cruel thing to have done after everything he had said. Abbey pushed angrily against his chest, stumbling backward.
“That was badly done!” she spat. He laughed and folded his arms across his
chest. Without so much as a glance at him, she brushed past him and walked with
regal grace to the door. Michael reached it before her and yanked it open, standing in the doorway so that she would have to step around him to quit the
room.
She could not resist looking at him. He stared deep into her eyes, and Abbey
suddenly knew those piercing gray orbs could see right through her bravado. She
raised her chin a notch.
“Think on what I have said, Abigail,” he intoned with a bow.
She bestowed a sufficiently hateful glare on him and snapped, “My name is Abbey
V before sweeping out of the room.
Michael closed the door behind her and stood with his hand on the brass handle
for a long moment, commanding himself to get hold of his conflicting emotions
while he savored her taste on his lips. He had expected an ugly spinster!
A
dirty, ragged hellion! Not a woman like that.