Page 11 of The Viscount and the Vixen
In horror, still reeling from Locksley’s proclamation, Portia watched as he turned to Marsden. “I assume you have no objections.”
The marquess smiled. “None whatsoever. I was rather hoping for this outcome when all was said and done.”
Locksley turned back to her. “What say you, Portia? Much better to be my wife than my mother, don’t you think?”
“No.” The word came out harsh, abrupt, but inside she was screaming,No, no, no, no, no!She could not marry the viscount. Absolutely could not. She was here to marry the marquess. An old man who thought he needed an heir when he already had one.
Not his strapping son, who caused her insides to flutter every time he looked at her, her body to warm when he touched her, her entire being to dissolve into a heated puddle when he kissed her. She could not, would not, marryhim.
“No,” she repeated with the authority of her conviction.
With a cluck of his tongue, he tossed the papers onto her lap and settled against the sofa in an insolent lounge, his arm resting along the back of it, his fingers tapping merrily. “Then the contract is null and void and we’re done here.”
“No.” She looked imploringly at Marsden. “You and I are to marry. That’s what we agreed to.”
He gave her a sad smile, the wrinkles shifting over his face. “That’s what we discussed in our correspondence, but the contract is worded a bit differently. It states you must provide me with an heir.”
“I can’t provide you with an heir if I’m not married to you.”
“You provide him with an heir by providing me with one,” Locksley said, his voice teeming with arrogance.
Jerking her attention to him, she wanted to snatch that smug, self-satisfied smile right off his gloriously handsome face. He thought he’d won, when he didn’t even know what she was battling for, what was at stake. If she told him... God, if she told him he wouldn’t be sympathetic, he wouldn’t understand. He’d cast her out as brutally as her family had.
“The contract states that you marry and provide the Marquess of Marsden with an heir. It doesn’t specify whom you marry. If you give me a son, you have in essence provided him with his heir. And actually much tidier. If you give my father a son, you’ve merely given him a spare. Who may or may not inherit. Give me a son, and you’ve provided the next heir apparent. Honestly, Portia, I don’t understand why you’re not throwing yourself at me. That’s what you want, isn’t it? A son who will inherit titles, estates, power, wealth. Is it that you object to being merely a viscountess rather than a marchioness? The marchioness title will come eventually, but perhaps not soon enough for your aspirations.”
She heard the disgust, revulsion in his voice. How could marriage to him be pleasant when he hated her before the vows were even exchanged?
But if she said no, where would she go? What would she do? How would she survive? She could not return to what her life had been. It would destroy her.Hewould destroy her.
She rose to her feet and turned to the fireplace. Cold, so cold. She wished there was a fire, but she doubted even that would warm her, as she was chilled to the very marrow of her bones. She needed to find a reason for him to cast her aside, while ensuring that Marsden would still want her. “But surely you want a noble woman, someone with a proud lineage to stand by your side.”
“It wasn’t one of my father’s requirements. No need for it to be one of mine.”
“He’s a good man, my son,” the marquess said. “You couldn’t want for better.”
“Oh, I suspect she could. Why don’t you go outside and see if you can catch sight of the vicar arriving, tell him we need a little more time?”
“Jolly good idea. Give you two a moment alone to sort things out.”
She heard the creak of his bones as he got up, the shuffling of his footsteps as he made his way out. She didn’t want to be alone with his son. Never again did she want to be alone with him.
She was acutely aware of Locksley suddenly standing beside her, the heat and power emanating from him, even though he wasn’t touching her. Why did she have to be so blasted aware of him?
“You judged me correctly, Portia, when you said I wanted to protect my father. I will do whatever necessary to shield him from anyone who would dare to take advantage of him or wish him harm.”
“I’ve told you that I don’t wish him harm. I will provide him with companionship, another child, an absence of loneliness.”
“I don’t trust you not to take advantage of him. As you saw, he’s not always in his right mind.”
She faced him. “So you will marry a woman you detest?”
“I have no interest whatsoever in love. I never have. I watched it drive my father insane. I will not follow that path. But I do require an heir. I could hardly do better than a woman who is willing to let me take her from behind, on her knees, or upside down.”
She slammed her eyes closed. She’d been trying to shock him, put him in his place, get him to leave off. That approach certainly hadn’t produced the results she’d wanted.
He touched his finger to her jaw. Opening her eyes, she jerked back.
He angled his head, mockingly lifted a corner of that wicked mouth. “Not exactly the response on the terrace.”
