The Devil Claims a Wife. Helen Dickson

why, when the heavens have seen fit to reward me for whatever reason with a glimpse of the fairest maid that ever graced my sights.’

      Though she roiled inside, Jane feigned control, rolling her eyes in seeming humour. ‘If nothing else, you were born with a smooth tongue, sir. But since there is no one here you seek to impress, you may as well save your pretty words for another who is willing to listen.’

      He took another step and Jane was very aware that the closer he came, the softer and lower pitched his voice became, and, as he moved closer still, she felt a frisson of velvet along her spine. ‘Are you so sure you know me well enough to know whom it is I seek to impress?’

      ‘I have no wish to know you, sir.’

      ‘Ah,’ he said, with an unmistakable trace of amusement. ‘In which case, sweet Jane, I acknowledge my poor judgement and can only wonder at the reason which brings you to an empty church, at a time when most brides would be preparing for marriage and dreaming sweet bridal dreams. Is it God’s comfort you seek to calm your nerves of what is to come?’

      ‘I marvel at your intimate knowledge of brides. Speaking only for myself, I often come to the church when it is quiet to pray.’

      ‘For a young woman to spend so much time on her knees, perhaps you should reconsider your future and become a nun instead of a wife.’

      ‘I have often been accused of being wilful and disobedient. I fear I would make a very bad nun. And it is not uncommon for a bride to be nervous as her wedding day approaches. One must cope with one’s nerves as best one can and a wedding causes so much happy anticipation …’

      The words nearly choked her, but she would not have him know the extent of her desperation. She had no happy dreams of the future and soon more would be taken from her, but she would not surrender the battered remnants of her pride.

      Guy arched a dark brow. ‘Happy anticipation? Forgive my impertinence, Jane, but I seem to recall that the last time I saw you with Aniston, he was on the point of assaulting you. Is it that which inspires such happy anticipation? Or was my judgement also faulty? Maybe you were not in need of rescuing after all and would have enjoyed the rough and tumble of his lusts.’

      Jane tensed as he came closer still, reminding herself it was past time for her to take leave of him, and she told herself she would, but she was reluctant to do so. His closeness was forcing her heart to beat even more rapidly than before, something she would not have thought possible. She asked herself what was wrong with her, for if there was ever a time when she ought to be erring on the side of caution, it was surely now.

      She lowered her eyes. ‘What happened yesterday was between Richard and myself,’ she told him. ‘Any differences of understandings we have will be rectified by us.’

      All trace of mockery had vanished. Guy’s blue eyes were as hard as granite, as was his voice. He was clearly angry and his tone was deadly quiet. ‘Differences of understandings? Tell me this. Has Aniston ever threatened you with violence? Have you ever felt yourself to be in direct physical danger from him?’

      Jane was determined to maintain her composure, though the effort cost her dearly. She had been disturbed by Richard’s behaviour and felt nothing but dread for what he would do to her on her wedding night. But knowing how important this marriage was to her father, she had no choice but to defend him.

      She gave a half-hearted shrug. ‘No. I think it was a matter of Richard being too eager. He believes that once a couple is engaged, they are considered as good as married. He is not alone in that.’

      She could see that the anger she’d heard building in Guy St Edmond’s voice had become etched on his face in hard lines as he responded to her words. ‘Which is why a good many brides are already pregnant when they make their vows to the priest. There are things in this world that are worth the waiting.’

      ‘Since you have just proposed that I become your mistress, that makes you a hypocrite,’ Jane retorted sharply.

      He gave her a lopsided grin. ‘I’ve had my moments.’

      She gave him a questioning look. ‘Yesterday you implied that you knew Richard—or know of him. I am curious.’

      ‘I know Lord Lambert. He was a good friend of mine. We fought many a battle together. Aniston was a squire in his household. We never met, but I knew of him.’

      ‘I see. And what happened to Lord Lambert—you speak of him in the past tense.’

      ‘He did not live long following the tragic death of his beloved daughter Lucy.’

      ‘I’m sorry,’ Jane said, having no desire to pry into what was clearly a private matter. Unless … Her eyes flew to his. ‘Was Richard involved in what happened to her?’

      He shook his head. ‘I can’t say. But you must understand my concern.’

      ‘I—I do care for Richard,’ she lied in desperation, haltingly, unconvincingly, tears welling up in her eyes which she immediately blinked away. There was a part of her, young woman that she was, that wanted to run home and fling herself on her bed and cry. But she could not do that. She wasn’t Blanche, who laughed and cried easily. ‘Please do not speak to me like this again. I will not listen.’

      ‘Damn it, Jane. I am no monster. Would you rather take that coarse, unsightly lout and nurture him with the sweet joys of wedlock than consider me? Are you mad? Aniston is to have what I want and silence on the matter will not make that fact any sweeter. You forget who you are dealing with. Do you not realise that as lord of this demesne, no man who lives on my land can marry off his daughter unless I allow it? I have the right to forbid your marriage to Richard Aniston.’

      Jane paled, her eyes wide with disbelief. ‘You would not do that?’

      ‘It is within my power to do so—if I so wish.’

      Jane was furious at what he was implying. Her angry eyes held his. ‘How could you even think of doing something so base? You may command your soldiers to your will, sir, but you have no such authority over me—and you have much to learn about courtship.’

      Guy had to concede that she spoke the truth. The people of Cherriot were not like the knights and squires with whom he had spent the last fifteen years. He was a fighting man. In his world loyalties were clear. Bravery was a virtue and the issue was life or death. No time for courtship. Since Isabel, he had vowed that his emotions would never be engaged by a woman—until he met Jane Lovet. Guy cauterised his emotions. Women had always been attracted to him because he remained aloof, giving only so much of himself. That was the way he liked it, the way he intended to control his life.