Lord Sin. Catherine Archer

the two matched navy blue wing chairs near the window.

      With studied poise Mary folded her hands in her lap and waited for Ian Sinclair to begin. He did so after only a moment. “Miss Fulton, I realize that what I am about to say may seem somewhat precipitous to you, especially as we have only known one another for a very short time.”

      She frowned, wondering where on earth this could be leading. “Go on.”

      He surprised her by reaching over and taking her cold hand in his warm one. Mary was too amazed to either comment or draw her hand away and she listened to him continue with only half her mind, as the touch of his warm skin made her own tingle with awareness. “I know that the last months have been very difficult for you and that you find yourself in somewhat distressed circumstances. I want you to know that if the situation were otherwise I would not speak so hastily.” His dark eyes were full of meaningful intent as she looked up into them, feeling herself drawn closer to him, though she made no physical movement.

      She shook her head, her eyes wide. “I cannot think what you might be talking about, sir.”

      He squared his wide shoulders. “I am asking, Miss Mary Fulton, if you would do me the honor of becoming my wife.”

      The words had the effect of creating a thick haze of shock and confusion around her. She looked down at her hand in his, feeling as if it was miles from herself.

      How—why was this happening? It could not be real. Ian Sinclair, eminently eligible bachelor and heir to an earldom, could not be asking her to marry him.

      For heaven’s sake, they did not even like one another. A sudden vivid memory of the kiss they had shared only days before in her own backyard insinuated itself into her mind. Even through the fog of her confusion Mary felt a tug in her lower belly.

      She shook her head to drive the thought away. That kiss had not occurred because Ian liked her. He’d said himself that he was only trying to comfort her.

      Was that possibly why he was doing this, she asked herself, because he felt sorry for her? Her sense of confusion cleared slightly at the thought. She looked at him closely and found that he was still watching her with that same intent expression he’d worn since entering the vicarage.

      Forcing herself to speak calmly, she asked, “Why…why are you doing this? Is it because you feel—” she sat up straighter, forcing herself to go on “—sorry for me?”

      The immediate and forceful tone of his reply made her believe him when he said, “No, absolutely not. I have no need to marry any woman out of sympathy.”

      A frown marred her brow as she wondered why, then, he would wish to marry her. “Tell me what has brought this about? I don’t understand.”

      He leaned close to her, his tone intimate. “Don’t you, Mary? You are a beautiful woman. I also think you would make just the kind of bride I have been searching for.”

      The words caused her heart to beat more quickly, even as she realized that for a moment there was something odd in his tone, almost a hint of bitterness. But as he went on looking at her that way she told herself she had imagined it.

      As if sensing her uncertainty, Ian’s fingers tightened on hers. “I desire you, Mary. I should think that even an innocent like you would know that.”

      A thrill of honeyed warmth suffused her even as she answered, “I don’t know. I don’t think it would be…” There had been times when he had looked at her as if…well, she’d been too afraid of her own reactions to really allow herself to understand what that look meant.

      There was no denying it any longer. Mary had been attracted to Ian from the first moment she saw him riding across the moors toward her. Even the discovery that he was the infamous “Lord Sin” had not dulled her interest, no matter how she had tried to tell herself he was not an honorable man. And was he not disproving that even now, by asking her to marry him? It was completely honorable, this proposal he offered her. And did she not in her most secret heart rejoice that such a bold and handsome man would want her, Mary Fulton?

      Still, a small voice inside her cried out in indecision. She shook her head and repeated, “I do not know.”

      He halted her with a finger on her lips. “Don’t think, Mary. Just say yes.”

      When he saw her continued hesitation he went on, his tone rich and persuasive. “Or do you prefer the future you have told me of? Do you wish to spend your life in another woman’s house, looking after her children? Is that what you really want for yourself, Mary? You were meant for so much more than that.”

      She pulled her hand away from the persuasive warmth of his touch and rubbed her forehead. “This is too sudden, too unexpected. I don’t know how to answer you. I had not even thought.”

      To her utter amazement he stood and drew her, completely unresisting in her surprise, into his strong arms. His mouth, warm and pliant, descended to hers.

      A current of heat swept her as his lips played over hers. It became a torrent as his mouth encouraged hers to open and his tongue flicked over hers. Mary moaned as the sensations pooled in her belly. Her breasts swelled against the hardness of his chest and she pressed herself closer to him to relieve their aching.

      When Ian drew back, she looked up at him, her eyes heavy with languor. He spoke huskily. “Can you say you have not thought of that, Mary, of the way it feels when we touch, kiss? I have thought of little else since I first kissed you.”

      His frankness and her own innate honesty brought forth a truthful, albeit befuddled reply. “I have thought of it.”

      Ian placed his hand on the back of her head and drew her to him, kissing her again with a mastery that left her head swimming, her blood pounding in her veins. Weakly she leaned against him.

      He felt so strong, so very solid in an unknown world. This was her opportunity to have her own home, a husband…perhaps children. Mary had always been strong, looked after those around her, behaved with a maturity far beyond her years. Was this her invitation to throw caution and common sense to the four winds?

      His breath was hot on her forehead. “Say you will marry me.” Again his mouth found hers. Those mobile lips sucked and played at her own until she could barely stand the depth of heat that washed through her and left her knees weak. He drew back only slightly, punctuating each word he uttered with a kiss. “Say…yes…Mary.”

      Unable to think of anything save being in his arms, of being held and kissed by this man, Mary nodded. When she replied, she was a little surprised by her own breathlessness, her own capitulation. “Yes, yes. I will marry you.”

       Chapter Four

      Mary looked at herself in the gilt-edged mirror, hardly able to believe that the woman staring back at her was herself. Her hair had been arranged in an elaborate coiffure, with only a few soft tendrils left free to curl about her nape and temples. The eyes that stared back at her were luminous with an excitement she did not wish to acknowledge.

      She was marrying Ian, but not because she loved him. Oh, no, Mary did not have any illusions as to that. She was doing it because it might be her one opportunity to have a home, a family. It also helped that Ian seemed to accept her as she was, to not fault her for her outspoken ways or education. The few men of her station whom she had chanced to meet had felt quite differently.

      Behind her she heard Victoria say, “You may go now, Betty.” She heard the door close behind the maid only a moment later.

      Mary looked at her friend’s reflection. Her eyes met Victoria’s troubled ones as she asked, “Mary, are you sure this is what you want?”

      Frowning, Mary turned to face her. “Yes. Why do you ask? I know it has been sudden, but I would think you would be pleased for me.”

      Victoria took