Surrender to Me (The Derrings #4)(55)

“That’s enough,” Griffin snapped, rising in one quick motion, pulling Astrid up with him.

“Griffin,” Astrid broke in, “don’t—”

He cut her off, addressing the maid, “Would you show me to my room, please?”

“Griffin,” MacFadden’s voice rumbled out, brusque with disapproval, “we have much to discuss—”

“We can talk later,” he bit out, knowing he was close to losing control entirely. “Right now I’ll be shown to my room.”

Tossing an uncertain look at the laird, Becky began to lead them from the drawing room.

Griffin stopped abruptly and turned, the anger in him bubbling up from the surface. “Just a word of advice. You and I will get on much better if you take care in addressing my…companion with respect.”

MacFadden blinked, looking from him to Astrid and back to him again. “I see,” he murmured, nodding.

With a curt nod, Griffin turned and followed the maid out of the room, one hand still closed firmly around Astrid’s arm. Only with each step, his anger grew. And it was not solely directed at Hugh MacFadden.

Once again, she had put herself out there, exposed herself. Perhaps not to danger this time, but to scorn and derision.

Becky opened the door to a well-appointed bedchamber. “Your room,” she murmured, looking uncertainly between them. “I’m sorry the fire has not yet been lit.” She moved in the direction of the hearth, but Griffin’s voice halted her.

“Thank you, Becky, but I can see to it.”

“Very well.” She nodded and exited the room.

He thrust Astrid into the chamber before him and closed the door firmly after the maid.

She rubbed her arm where he had gripped her and moved to the center of the large chamber, watching him like an animal cornered, wary and ready to flee.

His temper burned even brighter at the sight. He dragged a hand through his hair, cursing himself for handling her so roughly, for making her look at him with such trepidation, even if she did manage to infuriate him beyond reason.

But now he only saw red as he stared at her. She cocked her chin in that gratingly familiar angle. The defiant action galled him.

“Have you learned nothing?” he demanded. “Could you not have simply bit your tongue and continued to pretend that we’re married?”

Her eyes flared, then narrowed to slits. “Don’t treat me like a dim child. My honor is not at risk here, among your family. I see no reason to carry on the pretense of being married now.”

“No?” he growled. “I do,” he replied, uncaring that his reply sounded more like a petulant boy denied a toy than a man in full control of himself and his emotions.

“I would think you would want no lies between you and your family. You’ve only just met. Your relationship with them shall grow stronger whereas our association shall end altogether in a short time. They should have complete honesty from you. Who cares how they treat me?”

“I care,” he hissed, seizing her by the arms.

Her eyes grew wide, lips parting on a whimper. She stared at him a long moment, her lips trembling as if she wanted to say something. He waited, wondering what traipsed through that head of hers.

Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips and he had to force his thumb not to brush the tempting pink lip, to lean down and draw it into his mouth, to taste her.

“Are they so wrong? Have I not done with you precisely what they judge me to have done?”

He shook his head, refusing to accept her logic. “I’ll not stand by while you’re treated like a whore.”

She flinched, but continued in a maddeningly even voice. “Then you should have provided me with that escort and sent me on my way.”

“Not that again.” He gave her a small shake. “I gave my word to see you safely to Edinburgh.”

“When?”

“When I’ve concluded my business here.”

“Rather vague,” she muttered. “I’ll not be held hostage to your whims.”

“You’ll be on your way soon,” he heard himself promise, wondering if that was a vow he could keep. The feel of her in his hands even now fired his blood. He was not yet tired of her…and he somehow suspected he wouldn’t tire of her anytime soon.

She stared at him a long moment, her dark eyes inscrutable. “Then you must see how your family’s opinion fails to signify. A year from now we shall be but a dim memory to each other. What are we anyway save two people forced together by circumstance?” Each clipped word struck him like a jagged little stone. Her eyes gleamed like polished onyx, reflecting nothing—no light, no sentiment.

Galled at her words, at her emotionless stare, his hands fisted at his sides. How could she be so cold, so without feeling?

“Circumstance,” he growled, the word rolling off his tongue like an epithet. “There is more than circumstance between us, Astrid.”

Circumstance had little to do with the fact that they had become lovers. Or that the world faded, disappeared entirely, when he held her in his arms.

Dim memories? Did she honestly believe such nonsense?

He’d been with enough women to know that what was between them was real. Rare. He would never forget a moment of their time together. Startled and angered at thoughts that dangerously bordered on sentimentality, he cursed beneath his breath.