Page 17 of The Viscount and the Vixen
“Once he’s determined his course, there is no talking any sense into him.”
“But it makes a mockery of what they shared.”
“No, it doesn’t, my dear,” Marsden said. “It’s a testament to our belief that you’ll be a true and good wife to our beloved son.”
Only she wasn’t good. If she had been, she wouldn’t have been brought to this moment. If she was good, she’d walk away.
Locksley squeezed her hand. “Unfurl your fingers.”
“You can’t want to do this.”
“Neither did I wish to get married today, yet here I am. Open your hand and let’s get this done.”
Reluctantly she did as he bade, watched as he slid her glove down her arm, over her hand, before passing it on to his father. Taking a deep breath, he guided the ring of tiny diamonds and emeralds onto her finger. It fit perfectly, which for some reason made it all the worse. She felt the extreme weight of it, the warmth it had absorbed from his skin as he’d held it.
“With this ring, I thee wed,” he said solemnly.
She lifted her gaze to his, the magnitude of what they’d just done making it difficult to draw in breath. She was married. To Viscount Locksley. Not at all what she had schemed to occur. She had an insane urge to apologize, to tell him she was sorry. She would be as good and true a wife as she could be, but that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t eventually come to hate her. That she might even come to hate herself.
“I now pronounce you Lord and Lady Locksley. You may kiss the bride.”
Her husband—her husband!—lowered his head, giving her what she assumed would be the very last chaste kiss he would ever bestow on her. His mouth brushed lightly over hers as though there had been no passion between them earlier. He’d barely stepped back before Marsden was bussing his lips over her cheek.
“Welcome to the family. I can’t tell you how happy you’ve made me this day.”
She wished she could claim happiness as well. Then she found herself surrounded by the servants, pumping her hand, hugging her, offering congratulations.
But as she looked over her shoulder at her husband, he was staring at her as though he’d just discovered something about her that he’d rather not know.
Chapter5
Locke hadn’t been able to whisk his bride up to his bedchamber following the ceremony because Mrs.Dorset had prepared a feast that would spoil if not served immediately. At the table in the small dining room, he sat across from his father, with his wife—his wife!—to Locke’s left near his cold heart, and the vicar to his right.
As he sipped his wine, he considered the possibility that his mercenary wife apparently was in possession of a conscience. It had surprised him beyond all measure when she had questioned accepting the ring. He’d expected her to take one look at the sparkling jewels and salivate. But she hadn’t. She wasn’t comfortable with it. Even now in between courses, she fiddled with it, rotated it as though she wished she could remove it.
He didn’t think it was because it symbolized she was married. It was because it symbolized love and between them there was none, not even a glimmer. Nor would there ever be. They both knew it.
“Where does your family hail from, Lady Locksley?” Browning asked, and she flinched ever so slightly, obviously not yet comfortable with the address.
Another surprise. He’d have thought she’d embrace it, insist on him addressing her as such.
“Yorkshire,” she said quietly.
“The Earl of Greyling’s family estate is in Yorkshire,” Locke said, wondering why he hadn’t thought to pose the same question to her earlier in the day. But then at the time he hadn’t cared from whence she’d come. He’d cared only that she depart with all due haste. “Evermore.”
For the first time since they’d taken their seats, she glanced over at him. He didn’t know why he took such satisfaction in finally having her attention. “I’m not familiar with it.”
“You must notify Grey and Ashe of your wedding,” his father ordered. “Have them come visit. We’ll celebrate.”
“I look forward to meeting your friends,” she said.
“They’re more brothers than friends.” He’d been all of six when they arrived. They’d grown up together, shared adventures, mischief, and loss, the last creating a stronger bond between them than there might have been otherwise.
“You’re very fortunate to have them then.”
And he suddenly wondered who was there for her. Most women filled the church with relatives and friends. “We’ll have to invite your family to visit as well.”
Delicately, she touched her napkin to her lips. “I have no family.”
