Claiming His Bride

‘The woman’s a menace,’ Sorrel muttered. Augusta knew everyone, and made it her mission to keep them all informed of each other’s doings. Except that she frequently got things wrong. ‘She’ll be telling people we…that we’re…’

‘A couple? It’s just gossip. Nobody takes her seriously.’

‘Aren’t you worried that Cherie might wonder if there’s something in it? I don’t think it would be a good idea for her to arrive and see us talking,’ she said.

His brows drew together for a moment. ‘In a place as public as this?’ He looked around them. ‘Cherie’s not a fool.’

Implying that Sorrel was, for even raising the possibility of upsetting his girlfriend.

‘And you’re not a woman,’ Sorrel retorted. Hadn’t he picked up Cherie’s tacit signals? This is my man—keep off the grass.

‘You noticed,’ Blaize said.

For a second she was confused. ‘Didn’t you?’

‘That I’m a man?’ His brows lifted. ‘Are we talking about the same thing?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I was thinking about Cherie.’

‘Bad joke,’ he conceded. ‘What about her?’

‘She’s very pretty.’ If he hadn’t seen her possessiveness and insecurity, Sorrel wasn’t going to point them out to him. ‘Have you known each other long?’

‘About six months. She did some interior design for us when we renovated our offices—your father didn’t mention it? Why are you so interested?’

‘I’m not, particularly,’ she denied. ‘I was just trying to carry on a normal conversation.’

‘Difficult, isn’t it?’ he said pleasantly.

‘You’re making it so.’

He paused. ‘Forgive me, Sorrel. I can’t help feeling you got off lightly. You didn’t have to deal with the aftermath of your dramatic exit. I was an object of interest for months.’

And he couldn’t escape as she had. His father’s precarious health and his commitment to the family business had tied him. ‘I’m sure no one blamed you.’

‘No, they pitied me,’ he said, and his acrid tone told her how he’d hated that. ‘Except for a few who seemed to assume I’d either beaten or betrayed you.’

Her mouth opened in protest. ‘No!’

He gave her a mirthless smile. ‘Since they weren’t told any reason, they invented one. I did the same. For a while I was convinced you’d found someone else.’

‘It was nothing like that!’

‘Then what the hell was it? You still haven’t given me an explanation.’

‘I told you, I was too young.’

‘You didn’t say so when we got engaged. I thought you were expecting a ring when you turned twenty-one.’

She had been. Everyone had been waiting for Blaize to propose—their parents, their friends…

‘I didn’t want that kind of marriage,’ she said flatly.

He frowned. ‘What—’

His cell phone trilled, and he swore and pulled it from his pocket. ‘Yes?’ he barked into the machine. His voice changed immediately. ‘Cherie…’

Sorrel took her chance of escape, murmuring an excuse before she turned tail and moved rapidly through the crowd to the exit. She had seen most of the show and earlier paid her respects to the gallery owner. There was no need to stay any longer.

Outside she paused, breathing in the night air and orienting herself. There was a taxi stand not far off but no cabs on the rank. She walked over and waited, idly watching the traffic pass until a car drew up close to the curb and the passenger door opened.

She had already stepped forward when she saw there was no lighted sign on the roof. As she hesitated, Blaize said, ‘I’ll give you a lift, Sorrel.’

‘I’m waiting for a cab, thanks.’

‘It’s Friday night—you could be here for ages and that’s not safe.’

‘I’m all right—’

‘Get in! Or I’ll stay here until a cab comes along.’

Reluctantly Sorrel capitulated, climbing into the seat and closing the door. ‘Thank you, but there’s no need for this,’ she said. ‘There are plenty of people about.’

‘I won’t leave a woman standing about alone at night in the city.’

‘Oh… You make it your mission in life to pick up every woman you see on a street corner?’

He cast her a withering glance, not bothering to respond to that. ‘I assume you were on your way home?’

‘Yes. What about you? Did Cherie stand you up?’

He flung another look at her, weaving his way into the stream of traffic. ‘It wasn’t a date. She couldn’t make it after all.’

He drove in brooding silence for a while, and a glance at him showed an austere profile, and a frown on his brow. She supposed he was disappointed. Presumably he and Cherie weren’t living together, or he’d have been sure of seeing her later.

Striving for some kind of normality, she said, ‘Did you like the show?’

‘Never mind the show. What did you mean by that interesting remark before we were interrupted?’

‘What remark?’ she stalled.

‘About “that kind of marriage”. What kind of marriage did you imagine we would have?’

They were climbing a steep, curved street. On the narrow pathway beside the road a pair of lovers strolled, arms about each other.

Sorrel said, ‘More of a merger than a marriage.’ As the car passed, the couple on the path paused under a street light and kissed.

Blaize made a scornful sound of disbelief. ‘Is that how you thought of it?’