Compromised into Marriage by Liz Tyner

Author:Liz Tyner
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2020-01-02T20:10:02+00:00

Chapter Eleven

When he stepped inside the carriage, Everleigh saw Vivian huddled in the seat and he lowered himself beside her instead of moving across. She was sitting so tight, like a bundled cocoon. An upset one.

He had the ridiculous urge to say I told you so and watch her ruffle. And, he had a more ridiculous urge to pull her into his arms and soothe her, and himself.

Holding Vivian close would make the trip back to London pass in a heartbeat, but it wouldn’t help his nights pass any faster. He had to keep his distance. It wasn’t fair to her to make her think he would offer her more than a passing illusion.

‘Well, you must be pleased now.’ He gave her a smile and resisted the urge to give a bear growl. ‘No curse.’ He whispered, ‘But you made a nice rabbit. The whiskers not too long. And I liked the ears.’ He lifted his hand over his head, shaping imaginary ears.

‘I pursued you—’ she bit down on the words ‘—for naught.’

He frowned, pretending puzzlement. ‘Is that how you see it? Ella Etta thought you were pleased.’

‘Ha. She has a bigger imagination than any I’ve ever seen.’

He laughed. ‘I told you that. If you’d believed me about her curse in the first place—’ He stopped. ‘You were ill, Vivian. I did see the physician Gavin Hamilton yesterday. I asked him about you and told him about your illness. He thought the cures the physician mixed were making you ill.’

‘I can’t believe you defend Ella Etta.’

‘If she is the one who helped you to recovery, then I will be grateful to her for ever.’

‘I don’t know whether to hate her or hug her.’

He nodded. ‘I do.’ He reached out, taking her hand, and only needing a slight amount of pressure to pry it from the cocoon. ‘I can read palms, too.’

He pulled the fingers of the glove away.

Vivian felt his fingertip run the length of her palm, sending his touch deep into her body. She tried to make a fist, but his grip wouldn’t let her.

‘Vivian,’ he cajoled, ‘don’t hide your lifeline from me. It’s long, like you. Sinewy. Not so wiry as this brief line.’

‘How can you truly see it in the dim light of the carriage? Open the shades.’

‘Can’t risk you getting seen. Besides, I can see enough. This thin line bothers me a great deal.’

He moved, so she could peer at her skin. ‘There’s no line there.’

‘This sparse line that is so small that it’s invisible... I fear it is a line for laughter.’

She tried to jerk her hand away again. He let her, then he let his throat rumble into a growl.

‘You beast,’ she shot back.

‘Bear,’ he corrected. He clutched her hand again, holding it in a light clasp. Tenderness gentled his words. ‘Vivian. Are you satisfied you’re not cursed?’ His touch reminded her of the summer sun, warming deep past the surface.

‘I suppose. But I’m so angry about the curse. All that nonsense.’

He gave Vivian’s hand a squeeze.

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