Lady Arabella's Scandalous Marriage. Carole Mortimer

eyes narrowed speculatively on the young woman who faced him so defiantly across the drawing-room. The beautiful and feisty Arabella St Claire, a young woman that at any other time Darius would have enjoyed taking for his wife. No, would have revelled in taking as his wife. Most especially the ‘taking’ part!

      But now was not the time for Darius to publicly tie himself down with emotionalent anglement. To announce to the world at large that he had aligned himself to a young, and consequently vulnerable, wife.

      Although he had no doubts that Arabella would dispute that she was in the least vulnerable!

      ‘Why?’ he bit out harshly.

      She raised those haughty brows. ‘I am sorry, I do not understand?’

      His gaze narrowed. ‘Did I inadvertently deliver some unintended insult to you in the past that you now feel I should be made to suffer? Some slight upon your person for which you feel I need to make suitable reparation?’

      Her mouth twisted. ‘Your obvious joy in my acceptance of your offer is overwhelming, Darius.’

      He gave a hard grin at her sarcasm. ‘It is difficult to feel joy when one feels one has a loaded gun placed against one’s temple.’

      Her cheeks flushed angrily. ‘How flattering!’

      He gave a mocking inclination of his head. ‘Strange, when I intended to insult.’

      Arabella was completely aware of what this man had intended. ‘No one is forcing you to do anything, Darius. No matter what my own decision is, you have only to inform Hawk that you have changed your mind and now refuse to marry me.’

      Darius gave a humourless laugh. ‘And so allow him the pleasure of pulling the trigger?’

      Arabella gave an inelegant snort. ‘I assure you that Hawk has no more desire to see you become a member of his family than you have to become one.’

      Darius did not doubt it. He had known for a long time—eighteen months, at least—that Hawk St Claire held him in complete contempt.

      ‘Lucian is not so disapproving, however,’ Arabella added slowly.

      ‘Lucian?’ Darius echoed slowly. ‘Lucian has spoken on my behalf?’

      ‘I believe he talked with Hawk after breakfast.’ She nodded.

      Darius didn’t much like the sound of that. He didn’t like the sound of it at all! So much so that he made a note to himself to talk to Lucian at the earliest opportunity. Damn it, if Lucian had dared to break the promise he had made to Darius seven months ago.

      He had no doubt that Arabella would make an admirable duchess. That as both the daughter and the sister of a duke she was more than capable of fulfilling that role with grace and confidence.

      Any duchess but Darius’s!

      He had made certain decisions concerning his life eight years ago. Decisions totally private to himself and a few chosen others. Immune, or simply uncaring of the danger those decisions represented to himself, he was nevertheless aware that they could become a threat to anyone with whom he became intimately involved. Most especially, it seemed, to any woman he became betrothed to or married!

      Darius stood up impatiently, his eyes narrowing shrewdly at the way Arabella immediately took a deliberate and nervous step back from him. His mouth tightened as he mercilessly went for the attack. ‘Am I right in thinking that a wealthy duke is a more attractive marriage prospect than a penniless lord?’

      Arabella eyed him warily. ‘Any woman who did not think so would be very foolish indeed,’ she replied honestly.

      ‘How unfortunate, then, that you are not a foolish woman,’ Darius rasped bitterly.

      Arabella gave a puzzled shake of her head. ‘I fail to under stand what—’

      ‘Do not play the innocent with me, Arabella,’ he growled.

      ‘I am not—’

      ‘I advise you to be absolutely certain that you are completely happy with your decision.’ ‘I have said that I am.’

      ‘You have taken into account, I hope, that—as you have said—my previous wife “conveniently” died within a month of the marriage and left me all the richer for it?’ he reminded her grimly.

      Arabella felt all the colour drain from her cheeks.

      Of course she had not forgotten that this man’s first wife had died in a hunting accident a year ago, only weeks after becoming Darius Wynter’s wife. Nor was she unaware of the suspicions that had been voiced amongst the ton about the suddenness of the other woman’s death.

      Suspicions that she had voiced to Darius herself, only the previous evening!

      But she was sure he had only brought that up to try and make her change her mind about accepting his offer! She eyed him closely. ‘I have no idea as to your first wife’s family circumstances, but I have no doubt that my own brothers, Lucian included, would deal with you most severely were anything … untoward ever to happen to me,’ Arabella told him firmly.

      Once again Darius could not help but admire her.

      Whether Arabella believed those rumours concerning his wife’s untimely death or not, she obviously had no intention of being deterred from marrying him herself. ‘In other words you are hoping that the threat of your brothers’ retribution will ensure that it does not?’

      ‘Exactly.’ She nodded coolly.

      Darius gave a rueful shake of his head. ‘I fail to see of what possible comfort that retribution could be to you if you were already dead.’

      She gave a blithe smile. ‘I assure you, knowing that Hawk, Lucian and Sebastian would instantly consign you to the devil is of tremendous comfort to me!’

      Darius’s mouth thinned. ‘And if I were to admit to you right now that I was indeed responsible for my first wife’s early demise?’

      Arabella drew in a sharp breath and looked at him searchingly. ‘Why would you do such a thing? ‘ she finally murmured.

      Darius shifted impatiently. ‘Possibly because it is the truth?’

      She frowned. ‘I believe you are trying to frighten me into refusing you!’

      ‘Am I succeeding?’ He scowled darkly.

      ‘No,’ she answered pertly. ‘Now, if you have quite finished voicing your reservations concerning our marriage—’

      ‘I do not recall voicing any of my reservations as yet,’ Darius rasped harshly. ‘The main one being, of course, that I have no use for a wife. Not now. Or in the foreseeable future.’

      She blinked. ‘Yesterday evening you mentioned the necessity for heirs.’

      His mouth compressed. ‘Which I would be just as capable of fathering in ten—twenty years as I am now. Arabella, have you seriously considered what it will mean to become my wife?’ he continued impatiently. ‘I am a man most of the ton still believe beyond the pale. A man who has only attained a tenuous respectability because of a title which should never have become mine.’ His expression darkened. ‘That would not have become mine if my brother had not died so suddenly and his legitimate heir, my nephew Simon, had not already been slain at Waterloo.’

      Yes, of course Arabella had considered all of those things during the long hours of a sleepless night. But ultimately they had all been rendered insignificant against her own inexplicable desire to become this man’s wife.

      Inexplicable because Arabella refused to search her heart too deeply in order to find the answers to that particular puzzle.

      ‘In that case, marriage to a St Claire can only but add to your newfound but shaky respectability!’

      Darius could see from the firm tilt of those highly kissable lips and the stubborn light