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oomph.
“Has it never occurred to you that I love you?”
Utter shock filled her eyes, then hope, then fear. “If you love me, I will never marry you.” The conviction in her voice was palpable.
“Is that so,” he murmured low and hard, his lips mere scant inches from her mouth.
Her cheeks darkened with anger. “Yes. I will not have your love wither to resentment, and I will not endure the heartache of loving someone, who will grow to hate me. I am willing to have an affair with you. Something so fleeting and beautiful that would burn away before we could form chains of hatred or love. I would marry you for any reason, but love. I would marry you for companionship, I would marry you so you could regain wealth and fortune if I had a dowry. I might even have married you if you had simply pitied me, but never because I love you or you love me,” she sobbed. “And you need to make your estates solvent, how can I take that from you?”
“I am not the type of man to rely on finding an heiress alone to fill my coffers, Willow. I have been making investments, and they have been bearing fruits. I also informed your father of my intentions, and he offered your dowry,” he said flatly.
Surprised chased her features then relief. “He did?”
“Yes.”
A look of wonder dawned on her face. “Father would only do that if he believed you to care for me.”
Alasdair drew her even closer. “I love you, Willow. I never stopped. You are strong and beautiful. More capable than anyone I know to be without sight. You still dream, and I want to help you fulfil them all.”
She tried to pull from him, but he held her firm.
“Please do not tell me such sentiments,” she cried.
Frustration curled through him. “Will you marry me?”
Her chest heaved. “No.”
“Is your only objection because I love you?”
She lowered her gaze, gathering her composure before opening her beautiful eyes to him. “Yes. I will not endure your love turning to disdain,” she whispered hoarsely.
He cupped her cheeks and dipped his head so his lips brushed against hers, infusing coldness in his tone. “Then I will never speak of love again for you understand nothing. But you will marry me, and we will exchange our wants and needs in our bed. I will take you riding, swimming, to country dances and lavish balls, and I will be your anchor when you falter…always.” He pressed a hard kiss to her lips, stroking his tongue over her teeth, and with a forceful push sank into the depth of her sweetness.
He kissed her for unending seconds, devouring her hot honeyed taste, uncaring someone could enter the parlor at any moment. She responded with such eagerness, his cock surged to life with painful immediacy, and the emotions roiling in him begged for an outlet in the depth of her body. He pulled from her, breathing raggedly. “If you only want lust between us, you will be ready for me, either on your back or on your knees. However I crave, whenever I want to take you.”
Her face colored at his crudeness, but he continued, “And you will give me an heir and your fidelity, your joy, and laughter, but not your love. Is such a proposition suitable for you, Lady Willow?”
She closed her eyes, reining in the wash of emotions that had chased her lovely features too quick for him to decipher. When she opened her eyes, the green orbs were composed. “Yes, such terms are acceptable to me.”
He was torn between throttling her and kissing her senseless. But he was the bigger fool. Because he had long realized he would take her in any condition he could get.
“Then you best to prepare for a wedding, my lady.”
Alasdair sealed his words with a kiss.
Chapter 9
It had been two weeks since Alasdair had proposed. And in that time, Willow’s disquiet had only grown, but so had her joy. Everything she had ever desired was hers for the claiming, if she would only embrace all he promised. She had met with his mother, and while she had seemed stiff and formal, she had made some effort to bend the last few days. His sisters had been wonderful. They made every effort to converse and put her at ease when she dined at Westerham Park on the previous evening.
Willow’s family was overjoyed, and her grandmother could not understand why she was not suffused with happiness. Alasdair, despite his cold words, was kind, charming, and attentive.
The door to the drawing room opened, and from the weight of the footsteps, she surmised it was the butler.
“My lady,” Dawson murmured. “A note has arrived from Westerham Park.”
Disappointment lodged in her gut. “What does it say?”
There was a rustle of sound, and then he spoke, “It says the marquess sends his apologies and asks to reschedule your ride out. He has been called away to London on an urgent matter.”
