Page 11 of Foolish Bride
“My father is not here.” She took two steps into the library, then closed the doors behind her. She pushed back the hood of her cloak.
“Your mother is waiting?” He crossed his arms and watched the door.
“I am alone.” Hands shaking, she untied the knot at her neck and placed the cloak over the back of a chair. Her simple blue dress had been the most appropriate for a meeting of this kind, but its low neckline left her feeling exposed. Putting the cloak back on would appear cowardly.
His eyebrows rose and then narrowed to a point between his eyes before he turned back to the window. “Go home, Elinor,”
She stepped closer, amazed that her legs held her. “Not until I have what I came for.”
He scoffed and stepped into the center of the room. There was a limp to his gait, and his jaw tightened. “I told you, if it’s money you want, I do not have much, but we shall work something out.”
A tear escaped down her cheek. She dashed it away, and the anger replaced her sorrow. “I do not want your money, Michael.”
Hands fisted at his side, he finally met her stare. “What is it then?”
She approached him and touched his arm.
He flinched, but she refused to back away.
“I want to know why? I need to know if you ever loved me. I demand to know if everything you told me was a lie.” There, she’d said it. She dropped her hand away.
He was pale and thin. Little of his robust figure shone through the robe. “I never lied to you.”
“Then why?”
He turned away again. “I would have thought your parents explained that to you already.”
She kicked at the rug, unsure of how to continue.
“Didn’t your mother explain?” Anger rolled through his words like an army.
In all the time they’d courted, she had never seen any signs of temper from Michael. He’d always been kind and loving. Through her fear, her own anger pushed her on. She stood toe-to-toe with a clearly dangerous man. “I was told that our engagement was dissolved because you cannot father a child. I will admit it took my mother quite a long time to get around to explaining that much, and I do not actually think she knew any more. What I want to know is what that has to do with you crying off?”
Then he turned. “I did not cry off. You did.”
“I did no such thing.” She stomped her foot.
“Then your father did.” His tone had gone flat.
“He had no right. If you did not end our engagement, then why were we not married today?” She tried to sound sophisticated, but tears pushed to the surface. His attitude was so changed. She didn’t know him. Maybe she never had.
“Your mother explained that.” He lumbered across the room and poured himself a rather large brandy. The smooth glide that she always admired was gone from his step.
“So if we had married, then we found that I was barren, you would have tossed me over?” She was rather proud of how rational she sounded in spite of her sorrow and raging temper.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He swallowed half his brandy. His shoulders slumped.
“Then why would you think that I would care?”
“You do not understand.” The second half went down in one swallow.
“Clearly. Perhaps you can explain it to me.”
He was pouring a second glass and laughed rather madly.
Perhaps she should not have come. This Michael was a stranger, and there was no telling what he was capable of. “I assume it has something to do with your injury. I know you think I am stupid, Michael, and perhaps I am naïve, but I did grow up on a farm. I know something of reproduction. What I do not understand is—could I have one of those?”
He turned and looked at her.
