The Marquess And I by Stacy Reid

Author:Stacy Reid
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: 0
Published: 2016-05-31T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

“What the hell were you thinking?” Quinton snarled hours later as he strode into Alasdair’s library.

He had known what was coming and had been deep in thoughts. The emotions Willow roused in him were similar to those he had formerly felt, except now he saw her through the viewpoint of a man. There was a time Alasdair had been convinced, once he experienced pleasure in Willow’s arms, the desperate hunger he had felt for her over the years would ease. He grimaced. It had increased tenfold. She haunted his most wicked and sensual dreams. He wanted her. And not only for pleasure. He wanted her as his marchioness.

He had swiftly composed letters to his solicitor, his barrister, his investment partners, and the stewards of his estates. He wanted to understand his financial standing and how long he would remain solvent if he married her.

The doubts crowded his mind. Could he still pursue Willow and achieve happiness for his sisters? They needed him, and their disappointment he would not bear. He wanted to smash the glass of brandy into the wall above the fireplace.

“Well?” his friend demanded.

“Is Willow well?”

Quinton sighed. “As well as can be. Our grandmother realized something was amiss, and I stupidly confided in her. The alacrity in which she told our father you had compromised Willow startled me.”

Alasdair braced himself. “How did Willow react to that?”

Quinton came to stand beside him, still stiff with anger. “She has told our father she will not be forced into misery.”

Alasdair jerked, and from the sharp glance of his friend, he surmised he had not masked his reaction. The pain of her words sliced deep. But what had he expected? She had been right when she accused him of leaving and not looking back. Though it had not been intentional. His father’s death, his mother’s grief, and Marcus’ illness had all happened within months of each other. It had been a lot to deal with. The despair of those times still had the power to affect Alasdair even after all these years. But when he finally emerged from the shadow of it all, he had not looked behind him, assuming that she had married her duke.

What a damn fool he had been.

“It is not you she objects to my friend,” Quinton admitted. “It is the situation. She fears being a burden. Though it is embarrassing to admit, I saw her face as she smiled at you. I realize nothing has changed for her, even after six years. She holds the same regard for you, and it is that regard that will make her deny you. Even as father roared, she only sought to protect you from his anger.”

“I can manage the duke’s wrath.”

Quinton sighed. “I told her as much. Why would you place yourself in such a situation?”

Alasdair ignored the question. “She told me she fell from her horse.”

His friend was silent for the longest time.

“What happened, Quinton? Please tell me.”

“She rode after you.”

Alasdair stiffened, a deep sense of foreboding filling his chest.

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