Wicked in Your Arms (Forgotten Princesses #1)(59)

For several moments he didn’t move, simply stared at the sparking embers, waiting for guilt to attack him. Or regret for failing to do the one thing expected of him.

Only it didn’t come.

So his wife-to-be didn’t possess the most stellar of pedigrees. He knew he should care, but at that moment he was having trouble mustering much anger at himself for the situation.

Grier was smart and beautiful and strong—everything he wanted in the wife who would stand beside him and lead Maldania into the future.

In the distance, a door slammed.

Moments later the door to the study banged open. “What have you done?” Malcolm demanded in tones so shrill they resembled a woman’s.

Sev winced. He didn’t need to ask Malcolm to explain himself. He understood perfectly.

“I had to find out from some old hag that my own cousin just offered marriage to Miss Grier Hadley after being caught in a state of dishabille with her.”

“Nothing as dramatic as that, I assure you. We were both dressed.”

An expression of vast relief crossed Malcolm’s features. “So you didn’t propose?”

“Oh, I proposed.”

Malcolm marched to stand before Sev, his hands propped belligerently upon his hips as he glared down at him. “Why would you do such a thing?”

“I’m honor-bound to offer marriage.”

“Rubbish. She’s gotten into your blood. That is all. You’ve wanted her from the first minute you clapped eyes on her.” Malcolm shook his head vehemently. “You’re not thinking. You’ll soon tire of her. The last thing you shall want is to then find yourself shackled to her.”

“That won’t happen.”

“Listen to yourself! You sound like you’re in love with the chit!”

Sev opened his mouth to deny the charge, but instead closed it with a snap.

He . . . shrugged. For some reason he had no wish to deny the allegation. He angled his head, scratching his jaw thoughtfully. Perhaps there was a kernel of truth to it.

He’d known when he followed Grier into that room he played with fire. He knew what would happen when he followed her . . . that he would have to touch her. Taste her.

He’d missed her abominably. She’d haunted his every waking moment—hell, even his dreams. He’d found courting other women, abiding their inane chatter, intolerable.

Even more intolerable was the notion that she was being courted. By the viscount or some other man. That some other man could be putting a hand on her . . . that a man other than he could kiss her, take her to his bed. He couldn’t stomach the notion.

“What will your grandfather say?”

A muscle near his eye ticked and he rubbed at the bothersome area, hoping to be rid of the sensation. “He’ll be happy I’ve married,” he replied vaguely.

“To someone as common as the Hadley girl? A chit as long in the tooth as she is?” Malcolm snorted. “I think not.”

His jaw clenched. “He’ll get over it. Once Grier’s delivered him his first grandchild, he’ll be satisfied.”

Malcolm’s faced flushed red and he stamped a foot. “He won’t! He won’t be happy. He won’t!”

Sev frowned at his cousin’s strange words and stranger behavior. He won’t be happy. Sev was unsure if he was stating this as fact . . . or as a wish. Either way, Sev was in no mood for such theatrics.

Sev rose to his feet. “This isn’t up for discussion, cousin.”

“You’re making a mistake.” Malcolm’s eyes glittered brightly.

“I think not. Even so, it’s my mistake to make. My life.” He held his cousin’s gaze for a long moment. “I’ll hear no more on the subject, Malcolm. I’m going to bed.”

Turning, he felt his cousin’s stare drilling into his back as he left the room. Taking the stairs to his room, he wondered at Malcolm’s strange behavior . . . wondered if he really knew him at all. Or if he even wanted to.





Chapter Twenty-three

Sev called upon Grier promptly the following morning. Cleo rushed into her bedchamber to alert her of the fact. She danced lightly on her slippered feet, her deep brown ringlets bouncing over her shoulders. “He’s in the library with Jack. Do you want me to listen at the door?”

Grier smiled—the first time since last night—imagining Cleo eavesdropping. “No. I imagine they’re discussing the settlement and other matters.”

She walked toward the window and gazed down at the gardens below, unable to hold her sister’s stare in that moment, reluctant to let her see all her misgivings so plainly writ upon her face.

She was marrying Sevastian. She would have him . . . the man for whom her heart beat these last weeks. It was exciting and terrifying. She hadn’t been able to catch her breath since last night.

“I’m happy for you, Grier. You’re going to be so happy.”

Grier turned slowly to face the sister she’d only recently come to know . . . and realized there was so much of her she still didn’t know. For starters, why she wished to entertain the courtship of a much older man.

“You think so?” she asked, eyeing Cleo’s fresh young face and loathing the notion of her shackled to the ancient marquis.

Cleo nodded, her brown waves bouncing over her shoulder. “Yes. You’ve won a prince! You’re going to be a queen, Grier. Think of it!”