Page 102 of Wicked Highland Heroes

“It is selfish to force me to marry you because you want Grace less than you want me—and I do not want you.”

He shrugged. “I think you do.”

Her mouth opened in shock. “You are an arrogant ass.”

“You cannot have only just noticed that.”

“Let me be clear—” From the corner of her eye, Eve spied a girl emerge from the kitchen with a tea tray. Eve waited until she set the tray on the table and left before continuing, “I have no intention of marrying you because you made the mistake of coming into my room.”

“Will the fact you had me kidnapped do?”

“You, sir, are not a gentleman!”

“Sadly, I am not.”

Eve stared. “You are purposely being obstinate.”

“I believe I once pointed out that we are alike.”

“l will not make you a good wife.”

“I see.” he nodded. “I said I will make a bad husband, so you are responding in kind.”

She shook her head impatiently. “You misunderstand. I will not remain here in Scotland.”

“That is fortunate, for neither shall I.”

Dread stuck like a knife clear to her soul. She envisioned them retuning to London—and him returning to the women he touched just as he had her. “What I mean is, that I shall never return to Society,” she quickly added.

“May I ask why?”

“I cannot be a Society wife,” she said.

“Exactly what is a Societywife?”

“A woman who marries out of obligation, then looks the other way while her husband lives his own life.” And she lives her own life, Eve privately added. “Grace can do that. I cannot. But, my lord, you would not flaunt your mistress in front of her, would you?”

“I do not keep a mistress,” he said coolly.

“That is only because even a mistress would not countenance a protector who fraternizes with other women like a butterfly flits from flower to flower.”

“Flits from—Madam, I do not flit.”

“Of course you do, but you will not do so after you are married—” at least she prayed not “—which means you will then keep a mistress as discreetly as other men of your station.”

“Married folk have lived together with just that sort of arrangement for eons,” he said.

“Not all. But you will, for you must choose a bride not out of love, but on the basis of her qualifications.”

“I think, my dear, the choice has been made.”

”Sir,” she began, then hesitated. “In Society, a wife cannot become too attached to her husband. I know this will sound foolish to a man like you but, well, I had rather planned on liking my husband.”

“And you do not like me?”

“No—I mean, yes. Oh, you know perfectly well what I mean.”

“You had hoped to form a more serious attachment than that permitted an earl?”

She nodded. “Forgive me, my lord, but that is your life. Not mine.”

“It seems my life is not to be envied,” he murmured.

“I did not mean it that way.”

He gave her a gentle smile. “I know.”

His gaze moved past her and Eve looked over her shoulder. A tall, older man strode toward them.

Lord Rushton leaned toward her and whispered, “Gather your wits, lass. You are about to meet the marquess.”