“Are you happy playing these stupid games with me? Is it annoying? Am I irritating? Or…even cruel…for asking you to go this far for me when I’ve hardly done anything for you in return?”
His grip around my wrists loosens, and then his fingers slip down every last inch of my arm until he’s cupping my cheek. “These games aren’t stupid, first of all. You’re neither annoying nor irritating. And if you’re even a little bit cruel…” His lips meet my chin, trace up my jaw, to my ear once more. “…I’m confident I like it.”
“So itiscruel to ask so much of someone with no promise that anything will come from it…”
“I wouldn’t say that. I’m confident you’d marry me in a matter of days if I got serious.”
At that, my heart jumps. “Really?”
He chuckles. “See? You’re overeager at the suggestion alone. This is hardly a situation that I believe nothing will come from. It’s too late for you, little saint.” His head shakes. “No. It’s too late for you,my author. I am the ink in your pen, birthedstraight from your veins. We are entwined. Inevitable. There is no future beyond the stories we are to write together.” Lifting my hand, he kisses my knuckles. “Shall I marry you now, my darling love? Would that bring peace to your tormented soul?”
If he really has a way to marry me in a matter of days…then…that might be a wonderful way to take us to a happily ever after that starts a new story.
Already, the pictures of the potential spin through my brain.
Coerced into marriage within a matter of days. An embittered wife offered against her will. An obsessive, arrogant husband determined to make her heart his. I like that. A lot. It suggests historical romance. I could purchase petticoats. I’ve always wanted an excuse to wear a corset. And I can just imagine what Alister might do to getin character.
Ruffled tunics. Tailcoats. Slacks. A top hat, if I could be so lucky.
Oh my goodness.
Gloves.
We could both wear gloves, and he could seductively pull his off with his teeth before touching me for the very first time—skin to skin.
He murmurs, “Am I to take the dreamy look in your eye as ayes?”
I snap back to the moment, open my mouth, and say, “Can you really do it? You’ve figured out how to force me into marrying you?”
“Perhaps if you consent to whatever fate I deem appropriate for you, you’ll find out.”
My breath catches. What a dangerous thing to toy with. If he’s truly got a plan to marry me, I don’t know whether or not it will involve my awareness. He’s rich, after all. I’m certain there’s a great number of things a rich man can do to subvert usual legal processes.
Oh no. I just remembered.
I still have a quarter of my vampire book left to write.
I can’t start my brain off on ahistoricalromance before that’s done. December would kill me if I don’t finish my vampire story now.
And, yet, itisthe beginning of August.
I want to be married in August. Am I going to slow-burn this out for another year? I’ll be well and truly past the vampire story by then. What other stories could happen in between? And will any of them compare to this new idea while it’s stuck in my brain and all I want to do is writeit?
My mouth opens. “I want a wedding.”
He chuckles. “Easy.”
Easy?
Easy?
“Easy?” I blurt. “Weddings take months to plan. You’re telling me that you can marry meandgive me a wedding in a matter ofdays?”
“Yes.” He kisses my hand again, holding my gaze in an impenetrable grip. “Easily.”
I find this hard to believe, but I suppose when you’ve lived the life I have—where one little splurge on a casket results in the emptying of my entire savings—many things seem impossible. Breathless, I say, “Okay.Okay fine. Marry me, if you can.”
The darkest smile I’ve ever seen pours over his face. Covering my lips with his thumb, he leans in and kisses the nail. “I need one week.”
