Bedwyn 1 SLIGHTLY MARRIED by Mary Balogh

Author:Mary Balogh
Format: epub

"You are not my wife?' He ignored everything else she had said. "There is a certain register in a certain church that would give you the lie on that, ma'am. You wear my wedding ring on your finger. You engaged in conjugal relations with me yesterday afternoon. Today our son or our daughter may be growing in your womb. Is it your claim that that child would be a bastard?"

She paled noticeably. Had she not considered the possibility of conception? Truth to tell, he had not either until assaulted with it as he had tried to fall asleep-alone-last night.

"It is very unlikely," she said.

"But possible." He had been a fool to give in to lust. If there were a child, they would be forever linked by something far deeper, far more compelling than the simple marriage bond. He would not allow any child of his to grow up without a relationship with its father.

She reached down to her lap for her embroidery, which of course was no longer there. She clasped her hands together instead, lacing her fingers. They turned white under his gaze.

"I ought not to have come," she said. "I ought to have resisted the duke's persuasions. It is not really true, is it, that the ton would condemn you if I were not here with you?"

He shrugged. "Who knows?" he said. "There are plenty of people who believe that callousness and even cruelty come naturally to the Bedwyns. Though anyone who knows anything of our history would know too that it has always been a matter of honor with Bedwyn men to treat their wives with respect and courtesy. It is why most of us marry late or not at all, I suppose."

"Would you have remained at home last evening and this if it were not for my being here?" she asked him.

"Probably not," he admitted.

"Undoubtedly not," she said, getting to her feet. "I am going to bed, Colonel. I am weary. You must go out if you wish. Go and find your brothers and sister or some colleagues and friends. You need not stay at home on my account."

"You are my wife," he said.

She laughed softly-a sound without humor-and turned away.

"Eve," he said.

Her head jerked back his way.

"If we are to spend a few weeks in company with each other," he said, "I believe we must dispense with this awkward ma'am, and colonel business. I am Aidan."

She nodded.

"And perhaps," he added before he could stop to consider the wisdom of his words, "we should live together as man and wife for these weeks. Yesterday afternoon was good. We will both have enough years in which to be celibate."

Her eyes dropped to the floor between them as she apparently thought over what he had suggested. All day it had been gnawing at him-the fact that they were married, that for the next few weeks they would inhabit this suite together, only the width of two connecting dressing rooms separating their bedchambers, that they had had each other once but apparently were not to have each other again.

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