Page 3 of No One's Bride
He inhaled deeply before casting her a sidelong glance. “You’re wearing perfume. Spirit of Luna. I recognise the floral notes. Interesting. I did not take you for a hypocrite.”
Only two months ago, she had chided him for wearing an excessive amount of cologne. “I havenae changed my opinion. One’s true mate is drawn to one’s natural aroma. But I hoped the cloying smell might choke my competition.”
His piercing cobalt gaze drifted over her face. “Or maybe you’re tired of looking like a spinster and seek to make a match while your parents are out of town.”
An unladylike snort escaped her, drawing many a disapproving eye. Ailsa bent her head and lowered her voice. “I’d wager every book I own ye’ll marry before I do.”
He arched a curious brow. “You would?”
Drat! The words had left her lips without thought.
Pride persuaded her there was nothing to fear. Despite her father’s insistence she find a husband, she had no desire to surrender her independence.
“Aye, if ye’re willing to do the same.”
“That’s hardly fair. I have to marry eventually.”
Ailsa smiled. “I understand. Ye’re afraid ye’ll lose.”
“I’m not afraid, madam. I merely point out that the odds are in your favour. Only a fool would make such a wager.”
The auctioneer hit the lectern with his gavel, the bang loud enough to wake the dead. “Sold to Mr Peterson for five hundred and thirty pounds. Though a wife will cost him considerably more.”
Laughter erupted. A few men shared tales of their wives’ lavish spending. The auctioneer flicked through a pile of papers while preparing for the next lot.
Keen to offer Lord Denton terms before the bidding began again, Ailsa said, “Shall we set the bar at ten years? Whoever marries first within that time frame must surrender their entire collection. Would ye consider that fair, my lord?”
The gentleman’s mouth formed an arrogant grin. “As a man of my word, one keen to keep his oath, I’m willing to commit to ten years.”
A frisson of panic coursed through her. Beneath Lord Denton’s fine coat was a spine of steel. His middle name should be Determination. Still, she held her resolve. If anything, the wager would be a shackle around her neck, a means of forcing her to follow her dreams and resist the pressure to marry.
“There must be one stipulation,” the lord said. “Should we find ourselves victims of schemers and become honour-bound to marry, the wager would become void.”
While Mr Murden presented a copy ofFablesby Mr Gray, Ailsa considered the possibility of being duped by a rogue again. After the hurtful incident with Mr Ashbury five years ago, she took every care to present herself as plain and dull. One misstep and she might easily face ruin.
“Aye, if there’s proof of villainy.”
Lord Denton grinned like his horse had won the Derby. He offered his bare hand. “One shake and the oath stands.”
Ailsa glanced down—and hesitated.
For no sensible reason, her breath caught in her throat.
The man wished to seal their bargain, yet there was something captivating about his broad palm and long fingers. Like most English lords, his manicured nails conveyed wealth and elegance. Bronzed skin and bulging veins spoke of a strong, muscular body to accompany an equally resilient mind.
Would his touch be as firm as his opinions?
Or was he gentle when holding a woman in his arms?
Good Lord! Why would she even care?
“Well?” he prompted. “Had a change of heart?”
Banishing her wayward thoughts, she slid her palm over his and clasped his hand. “I abide by my oath. I’ll nae marry anyone during the term of our wager.”
Lord Denton firmed his grip and repeated the vow, his gaze shifting between her gloved hand and her face. A few furrows marred his brow. For a confident man, he appeared strangely troubled.
Was he having second thoughts?
