He tried to speak. He truly did. But besides a faint croak, no sound escaped from his throat. Which was probably for the best, as he didn’t have a clue how to respond to that request.
She, blessedly, did not seem to notice his shock. Her face became more animated as she warmed to her subject.
“Naturally, I have made a study of the mating habits of other animalia. While my parents have been reticent in allowing me to tackle such subjects, my dear friend, Seraphina, who owns the Quayside Circulating Library here on Synne, has made certain the unmarried females on the Isle have access to information of a more sensitive nature, and supplies us with the means to educate ourselves, the better to arm ourselves for battle in a world dominated by men and their intention to keep women in the dark regarding our very natural sexuality. There is only so much one can glean from books, however.” She smiled. “Which is where you come in.”
Which was a euphemism, as unintentional as it had been, that he could not fail to be aware of.
“Do I?” he managed.
“Absolutely.” She fairly bounced in her seat now with her excitement. “I, of course, have not had cause to explore such things. While I have come to an understanding of how the human body, in particularly the female human body, reacts to desire, there is only so much I can do myself.”
“Oh my God.” He groaned under his breath, even as his body burst into flames.
“And so I propose an amendment to our original agreement,” she went on, blithely unaware of his discomfort. “We shall consummate our marriage, and we shall live as husband and wife at Caulnedy for two weeks before you return to London. In this scenario, not only shall I gain the research necessary to understand the more intimate workings of the human body, but it shall provide me with a modicum of protection from the gossips of Synne.” Here her expression changed, the focused intensity transforming to a wry type of pain. “I am considered an oddity here, as you may not be aware, and would not want anyone to pity me more than they already do. Which they most certainly shall if my new husband abandons me on the very day of our wedding.”
His heart twisted at that bit of vulnerability. He had been stunned when she had burst into the conversation earlier, stating that they would live together on Synne for a time. But he had not been particularly concerned; no doubt she was simply trying to save face. They would have a talk before he returned to London for the special license, and he would reiterate his intentions for this to be a marriage in name only, and everything would be planned out nice and neat, wrapped up with a bow.
Now, however, he saw where her hasty declaration had come from, and felt deeply for her reasoning. Even so, the thought of lying with her, her naked skin against his, the feel of her heat wrapped around him…Ah, God. He swallowed hard. He wanted that with her, more than he wanted breath.
But he was no good. And she was so damn sweet and innocent.
“I—I’m not sure it would be wise—”
“I know I am not beautiful,” she cut in, her voice low and intense, the flush that stained her cheeks spreading down her throat and past the modest neckline of her simple gown. “You must have been with many women, all much more lovely and desirable than me—”
“Youaredesirable,” he declared fiercely. He grabbed at her hand, saw her eyes flare wide. “And I desire you,” he continued thickly. “Very much.”
“Goodness,” she whispered. For a moment she gazed at him, longing turning the limpid pools of her eyes to the brilliant blue at the center of a flame. She cleared her throat. “Then you agree?”
What the hell could he do in the face of such vulnerability? She would remain untouched by the ugliness in him; he would make certain of it. Having a consensual, physical relationship with Bronwyn did not mean they would be emotionally involved. And there was no reason to believe she would come to care for him. Hadn’t she said herself that this would be purely scientific?
Sending up a quick prayer that he was not making a monumental mistake, he nodded. “Yes, I agree.”
The smile she gave him knocked the breath from his body. “Excellent. Well then,” she said, standing. “Shall we return to the others?”
He rose, offering his arm, walking with her back inside. All the while he was achingly aware of the way her body swayed against his and the heat of her hand on his sleeve—as well as the fact that he would soon be bound to this woman, both legally and physically. The next weeks, he mused with equal parts dread and anticipation, would be both the shortest and longest of his life.
Chapter 8
Bronwyn would be forever grateful that she had her dearest friends about her on her wedding day. They had been her greatest support in the past fortnight as her mother and Lady Tesh had pulled and prodded and stretched her as thin as any one person could be in planning thewedding of all weddings, as her father so eloquently put it.
That did not mean, however, that every moment with the Oddments was all sunshine and roses.
“You don’t have to go through with this, Bronwyn,” Seraphina hissed in her ear as Mrs. Pickering turned away to converse with Bronwyn’s maid over the jeweled crown—a crown! Who was she, the queen?—they were trying to place in her short curls. Lacking a quantity of upswept locks arranged into an intricate mass, they were having difficulty securing the thing to her head.
“Seraphina,” Adelaide muttered, “leave her alone. She knows what she’s doing. Don’t you, Bronwyn?”
There was more than a hint of uncertainty in Adelaide’s voice. Yet she stood just behind Bronwyn, hand on her shoulder, a steady support. Bronwyn’s heart swelled.
The Oddments had not taken the news of her nuptials well. Bronwyn could not blame them; if it were one of them agreeing to marry a stranger a mere day after meeting him, she would be just as horrified.
But, being the incredible friends they were, they had rallied over the past weeks, assisting wherever they could in the planning and buoying Bronwyn’s spirits during the most difficult days.
Like now. A mere hour before she was to step foot in St. Clement’s and vow to honor and cherish a man she had spoken to a total of three times.
She drew in a shaky breath, clenching her hands tight in the gold netting of her wedding gown, and raised her gaze to her reflection in the glass. Only to find someone who looked nothing like her staring back at her. There was her same narrow face and plain brown hair and sea-green eyes framed by delicate gold rims. But the familiarity ended there. Her nondescript curls, cut short for ease years ago much to her mother’s horror, had been coaxed into soft waves. They framed a face that now held the artificial hint of rouge on her normally pale cheeks, and lips tinted a rosy red. Her clothes, too, looked all wrong on her frame. She was used to wearing simple gowns, ones chosen for comfort rather than fashion, that could withstand treks through knee-high grasses and maneuvering over rocky hills. Now, however, she was garbed in something that could only be described as decadent. The gold and ivory silk underdress was overlaid in gold netting, Brussels lace trimming the low-cut bodice and the small cap sleeves. She fought the violent urge to tug the neckline up to hide her nonexistent bosom.
A hand on her other shoulder startled her back to the present. Glancing up, she caught Honoria’s face in the glass. Her friend gave her an encouraging smile.