Married: The Virgin Widow. Deborah Hale
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never been written so plain as on Laura’s ghostly pale face. For a moment she seemed too mortified to speak. Or perhaps the accumulation of lies on her tongue had finally turned it to stone. Ford waited with anticipation to see how she would answer his charge.
Then, as suddenly as they had blanched, her features grew livid. She snatched her hand away from his arm. “What do you know of my personal finances and how did you find out?”
How dare she cast him in the wrong after all she’d done! “The subject came up during my meeting with Repton. Perhaps you should have warned him your settlement was meant to be kept secret.”
“It was meant to be kept private!” Laura clamped her arms tight to her sides, her hands balled into fists. “You had no right—”
“I have every right.” Ford rapped out each word, like flint striking flint. “You gave me the right when you pleaded poverty to impose upon my hospitality.”
For an instant he thought she might strike him with one of her clenched fists. He pictured himself grabbing her wrists to restrain her, pulling her close so he could stare deep into her eyes, then…
Just as his blood was pounding in his ears, Laura deprived him of his expected sport by subduing the flicker of passion he had roused.
Expelling a quivering breath, she clasped her hands in front of her and answered in measured tone. “You make it sound as if I lied about that. I did not. The money Cyrus settled on me is long gone. Do you suppose I would have allowed my mother and sisters to live as we have these past months if I had three thousand pounds?”
A ring of sincerity in her voice tempted Ford to believe her. But the way her eyes darted as she spoke told a different story. Ford was about to observe that he would not put anything past her, when he suddenly recalled the reason he had brought her here. Satisfying though it might be to expose her lies, he did not want to risk making her angry enough to thwart his plans.
Before he could find a way to back down gracefully, Laura provided him with the diversion he needed. “Besides, money is only one of the reasons my family has stayed on at Hawkesbourne, and not the most pressing, either.”
Ford cocked one eyebrow. “What is the most pressing reason, pray?”
“Mama’s health, of course. She has been bedridden for the past few years. Her doctor warned me that a move of any distance could do her great harm.”
Ford did not doubt that, for he had seen the truth with his own eyes. Though Mrs Penrose had put on a brave show, he could tell her time was running out. “I am sorry to hear it.”
“Then you will let us stay?” For the first time since his return, a genuine smile lit Laura’s face.
Its luminous magic bewitched Ford. For a wondrous instant, he relived a golden moment from his past, when he had stood on this very spot preparing to propose to his beloved Laura.
The beginning of a bemused smile was all the encouragement she needed to continue. “We take up very little room. I promise we will stay out of your way and not be any trouble. In such a large house, you need hardly know we are there.”
Her eager rush of words shattered the spell that bound him. Heartbreak, betrayal and bitterness stung him again like a swarm of angry wasps, their venom all the more potent for the fleeting reminder of what he’d lost. Though he could never get that back again, he would get something to compensate him.
“I should like to assist your family, of course.” He steeled himself against Laura’s dangerously convincing look of gratitude. “Though, for the sake of propriety, if I am to provide you with a home, I must insist upon doing it as…your husband.”
He watched her face with greedy relish as his words sank in. Her eyes grew wide and her lips fell open in a faint gasp that brought him an almost sensual thrill of satisfaction.
“H-husband?” she repeated as if the notion never would have occurred to her in a hundred years.
Once the idea sank in, Ford was certain she would seize this opportunity, pretending to accept only for the sake of her family. No doubt that was how she had justified her marriage to Cyrus—the little hypocrite!
“Does it not make admirable sense?” He took care to contain his eagerness in case it might make her suspicious. “We were once betrothed, but you required a husband of greater fortune to provide for your family. Now I am in a position to assist them and you are free to remarry. Shall we make a match of it at last?”
Laura flinched, as if from a sudden blow. It surprised and vexed Ford that her dismay brought him so little pleasure.
What surprised him more was her guarded response to his proposal. “Why should you want to marry me if you do not love me? You don’t, do you?”
If she had drawn a loaded pistol and held it to his head, Ford could not have felt more threatened than by that one simple question.
Of course Ford did not love her! What on earth had made her ask such a daft, pathetic question?
It must be the place, Laura decided as she awaited his answer. The soft rustle of a breeze through the beech leaves, the melodic trill of birdsong, the woodsy fragrance of bluebells all revived long-buried memories and threatened to thaw long-frozen feelings. Ford had not forgotten the significance of the bluebell wood. He had brought her here on purpose to propose once again. But why?
“Love? I am quite cured of such nonsense, as I’m sure you must be.” His scathing tone reminded Laura so much of his cousin’s, it made her bilious. “That is precisely why we should marry. Neither of us is blinded by bothersome romantic delusions. You need a home for your family and I would like an heir to keep Hawkesbourne in mine. Would I not be wise to wed a practical woman who knows better than to seek other things from me that I cannot give?”
His question sent a clammy chill through Laura. Five years of loveless marriage to a domineering husband had been more than enough to last her a lifetime. But an even more urgent fear seized her by the throat and squeezed.
“An heir?” she whispered. Hard as she strove to keep her composure, her lower lip trembled.
“Naturally.” Ford’s predatory gaze fixed on her lips. “What our marriage may lack in the warmth of love, I trust it will make up in the heat of physical desire.”
He leaned toward her, as he had in the drawing room on the day of his return. This time Laura tried to retreat, only to stumble over a tree root. As she fell backward, Ford seized her, pulling her toward him. His lips bore down on hers and took possession of them, igniting a volatile brew of passion and panic within her.
How many nights of her marriage had begun with a kiss only to end in curses and blows? Those memories haunted her, as she feared they always would whenever a man tried to kiss or touch her. And yet, Ford’s overwhelming desire kindled an unwelcome spark of arousal within her. Pulses of wicked heat coursed through her flesh, searing fiercest in her breasts and loins. Her husband’s attentions had never provoked such sensations. If they had, perhaps her marriage would not have been such a wretched failure.
What dismayed Laura even more was that she’d never had such a wanton reaction to the tender kisses she’d shared with Ford during their long-ago betrothal. How could her traitorous body now burn for a man who so contemptuously proclaimed he cared nothing for her?
Ford’s body sizzled with raw lust.
He hadn’t meant to claim a kiss from Laura before she accepted his proposal. But when she’d backed away, he could no more resist the temptation to follow her than a questing hound could ignore the scent of a vixen.
He could tell his mention of an heir had shaken her poised detachment. Her tremulous whisper when she’d echoed his words, the ripe color that had flamed in her cheeks and the provocative parting of her lips had aroused him beyond prudence and far beyond propriety. When he caught her in his arms to keep her from falling, primal urges overwhelmed his reason.
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