Page 7 of A Gentleman Never Surrenders
I should let go. But he didn’t. He was staring at her bright blue eyes so full of fire and those soft rosebud lips in a pout that made him want to kiss them, perhaps take a nibble…
“Hadley, are you listening to me?” She struggled to free her wrist from his hand.
“Mildred, please, call me Owen. We are to be married.” He tried to bite back a sudden smile at the entire ridiculous situation. Neither of them had wanted this, and he felt damned awful for upsetting Mildred. It was clear she didn’t want to be married and while he didn’t exactly like her, at least in the traditional sense, he didn’t want to upset her. The honest truth was he had destroyed both their lives, but more so hers than his. He’d been ready to marry a stranger—and it was clear Mildred was not—and he hated causing her the pain that he saw in her eyes despite her rising ire.
He wasn’t sure if it was a nightmare to be married to her or not. He would have to wait and find out. There was something undeniably fascinating about riling Mildred’s temper. Even if he was condemned to marry the harpy, he could at least laugh about it.
“Fine. Owen. And if you call me Mildred again, I’ll…”
His lips twitched. “You prefer Milly, then? So do I. Thank heavens we agree on one thing at least.”
Her feminine huff of displeasure made him chuckle. Just like October and July. They were opposites. What a dreadful match they would make. Yet, since he was doomed, he might as well embrace the absurdity of knowing he would be marrying her in a few weeks.
“You’ve ruined everything!” Milly snapped, but he saw the glimmer of hurt in her eyes rather than anger. Had she loved another? Was he robbing her of a man she’d intended to marry?
“Milly, did you…” He swallowed before continuing. “Did you have an understanding with another man?” Why he wanted her to say no he wasn’t sure. The thought of her weeping into a pillow over someone else after she became his was not a pleasant thought, not that he wanted her. He didn’t. He wanted Rowena.
Milly sighed, a little tear dripping down her right cheek as she pulled her wrist free of his grasp. She walked around him to her bed and sat on the edge, tucking her knees up under her chin like a child.
“I didn’t want to marry anyone, not like this…” She sniffed and looked up at him. “And now I’m to be stuck with you.” She waved a hand at him and then sniffed again, her eyes too bright, too full of tears. Had he ever believed Milly Pepperwirth capable of crying? No, he hadn’t. She’d always been this bastion of female spinsterdom to him. Beautiful, but cold and untouchable. Who was this teary-eyed beauty who lit an unwelcome yet undeniable fire in his blood?
He was moving before he was aware of it. He eased down beside her on the bed and cupped her chin, turning her face toward his.
“Milly, I’m sorry I’ve done this to you, to both of us.” He meant it. They were stuck with each other and it was his fault. She didn’t deserve this fate and he was a coward for compromising her like this and forcing her into it. The hard lump in his throat made it hard to breathe for a moment.
Her long lashes fluttered, tears coating her lips like tiny crystals. This wasn’t the angry woman from dinner earlier that evening; this woman was vulnerable and oddly beautiful despite her eyes reddened with tears. His chest tightened as he faced the fact that he had made her weep. Owen couldn’t help but wonder if her aloof act was truly that, an act.
“Then don’t go see my father tomorrow. Just leave. I’ll not tell a soul what happened.”
He shook his head. “The damage is done.” He shifted a few inches closer, his hand on her chin sliding around to cup her cheek. Her skin was soft as silk and he half closed his eyes as he fixed on her lips. He had the sudden urge to taste her, a woman he couldn’t stand.
“Let me kiss you,” he begged in a ragged whisper. Swept away by a surge of desire, he wanted to taste this woman’s lips to see how fiery she was when she wasn’t verbally sparring with him.
“What?” She blinked in surprise and drew back an inch.
Every predatory instinct in him took over and he dipped his head, brushing his lips over hers, light enough for her to still withdraw or to lean forward. Her mouth trembled against his and he felt her lean in, just a bare quarter inch. He curled his fingers around the back of her neck and held her still for his plundering kiss. He tasted her, teased her lips, and stroked the tip of his tongue along the seam of her mouth. A soft little throaty sound escaped Milly and he wanted to crow in triumph as she kissed him back. The lady could be seduced after all!
It took a surprising amount of willpower for him to separate their mouths. He rested his forehead against hers and stroked her cheeks with his thumbs as they shared panting breaths.
“I know this isn’t what you wanted, and I am sorry.” He kissed her again, this time on her cheek, and exited the room before she could say another word or shed another tear that he would see.
Chapter 4
Three weeks later. Three long weeks later, Milly was standing at the altar of a small church in the village outside of Pepperwirth Vale, her family’s home. Owen stood next to her, dressed in his finest morning dress, which should have made the man look respectable but all it did was make him look wicked, in a way that would leave all the ladies in the pews behind her green with envy.
They’d spent the three weeks leading up to this moment in each other’s company on an almost daily basis and she was coming to learn that he wasn’t as heartless as she thought he was, but it didn’t change the fact that she didn’t want to be here at the altar facing a life with this man. Even though he did make a fine groom…
Blast it! I don’t even want him as my husband. I don’t.
Owen glanced her way, one dark brow raised as though he’d heard her wildly inappropriate thoughts.
“It’s time for the ring,” he whispered loud enough for only her to hear.
A silly blush flushed her cheeks as she held out her gloved hand. They were specially made bridal gloves where the silk on the ring finger could be removed, her ring placed on, and the silk drawn back over it. Owen did all of this methodically, but a second before he slid the band on her finger, his hand shook and he nearly dropped it. As the band settled against her skin and he gingerly slid the silk fingerlet back on, they shared a sigh of relief, and for one single instant they shared a smile, too, a small, fatigued one, but shared nonetheless. Strangely, in that moment, she didn’t feel alone. They were both facing this life together.
The remainder of the ceremony was a blur. Milly had Rowena and Ivy as her bridesmaids and they took great care to arrange her long cream silk train as she was prepared to walk down the aisle. Owen waited patiently, his forearm held out toward her. She glanced at it, then up at him. He gave her the barest hint of a nod in encouragement. The last thing she wanted was to touch him—she was still furious with him—but she felt a little light-headed and her tulle veil seemed to weigh heavily on her head. Having something solid to grip would help.
Her fingers curled around his arm, clinging to the fabric of his sleeve.
