What a bloody mess this was! She couldn’t do that, and why did she want to so badly? They were not of her kind, and more than a little part of her feared Tremarctos. Her stomach gurgled, and she hiccupped.
Her mother reappeared with a tray in hand, her savory herb rolls and two pints of beer perched on top. The smell of rosemary and thyme eased her stomach’s grumble.
Mary placed the tray on the sideboard and brought one pint to Jonathan and the other to her father.
“’Tis a good thing Jane made it home safe.” Jonathan raised his mug to her father and smiled.
Had his cheek twitched? Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized him closely.
“Indeed it is. For if something had happened to her, I wouldn’t have this joyous moment.”
The way her father had phrased that was a bit odd. She quelled the shiver that ran down her spine. What was he about?
“I’m so happy to be home, Father, to relieve your worries. I did not intend to make you and Mother fret.” Her gaze darted back and forth between the two men. Something was amiss.
“Indeed, child, as we are delighted of your return. And this day is all the more special….” Her father’s eyes filled with joy, and a radiant smile stretched across his face as he gazed from her to Jonathan.
Oh…Oh, no! Her lungs locked, and she gasped for air. He was about to say what she thought he was about to say. Her entire body tensed as bile burned a hasty trail up her throat. Her stomach twisted and heaved. Her hand shot to her mouth, and she swallowed hard, trying to fight back her crumpets, for she didn’t want to embarrass her family by casting up her accounts.
“Yes, child, Jonathan has asked for your hand….”
She choked as she attempted to swallow back the contents of her dinner. Jonathan reached out to grasp her hand, a conflicted smile on his face. The smell of him, hops and watered-down Scotch, collided with her nose. Her stomach would have none of it; vomit spewed from her mouth, splattering across the crotch of Jonathan’s pants and his prized machine.
“Holy futter!” Jonathan screeched as he shot to his feet.
“I—I’m so sorry,” Jane said, feeling a trifle better. “But—but I thought you had no interest in me for more than a tickle.”
Her mother gasped. “Jane! H—have you…have you and Jonathan…”
Her father held up a hand, effectively cutting off her mother. “Jonathan came by after your disappearance. He was overwrought with guilt and said that when you came home he would marry you. We knew you had a fondness for him, so we accepted.”
She should be overjoyed with glee. Oh, God. This was not happening! Two days ago, wedding Jonathan was all she had wanted. What she expected from her life. But now…she had experienced true affection, true desire, and this was not what she wanted.
Her mother brought two cloths from the kitchen and handed them to Jonathan. Jane’s fingers pinched the bridge of her nose. Ugh. The stench of him! She shot to her feet and scurried to stand on the opposite side of the room. Her stomach clenched again as he stepped toward her. She’d always found the smell of hops so masculine, so Jonathan, but not now.
“Nuttin’ to worry yourself over, lovely. I have been cast up on before.”
Oh, God, Oh, God, Oh, God. What a mess she had gotten herself in. She spun around. “I—I can’t marry—”
Rap, rap, rap.
She jumped, and everyone turned toward the door.
Her father strode to the back entrance and yanked the handle.
Martin barged past her father into the little parlor, dwarfing everything inside.
His wild eyes assessed her in a glance.
“Sir.” He nodded at her father.
A wave of relief swept through her so strong she wanted to weep and throw herself into his arms. The smell of cinnamon wafted to her nose from across the room, and her stomach instantly stopped its revolt. His eyes twinkled. All will be well, Jane, filtered through her mind.
“Excuse me, sir. Who are you to barge into my home?” Her father’s gaze slid down his massive form, studying the tailoring of his clothes.
He looked so finely dressed in expertly fitted blue coat and breeches. Something only a man of means could afford, and her father would never turn down business.
“I am your daughter’s husband.”
A loud thud sounded from the kitchen door. None of them turned to investigate.
“Pardon, sir?” Her father turned his gaze on her. “Jane?”
Oh, this…this…What a preposterous idea! They were married…how was that supposed to work?
“Haven’t you told them, Jane?” Martin’s firm, deep voice made her insides quiver. Play along, Jane. I will not leave this house without you.
Her fists clenched. She wanted to go with him. She had a real proposal of marriage and one that was fictitious. Her soul wanted the lie. What was wrong with her! No sane woman in her situation would turn down a real proposal.
Jane.
She stared at Martin, and her throat tightened. She couldn’t refuse him.
“No. I—I couldn’t think of a proper way to break the good news.”
Relief shone in Martin’s eyes.
“How about ‘I ran off and got married’? My goodness, child.” Her father studied Martin’s shiny mud-splattered boots. “And, sir—it is ‘sir’? Correct?” Her father tilted his head.
“Martin Ursus of the Duke of Tremarctos,” he drawled.
Was that true? His father was a duke?
A thud and then a groan came from her mother as she fell to the floor again. Jane couldn’t take her eyes off Martin, and no one else moved to help her mother either. They might miss something.
“Jane, child, why did you not tell us you were acquainted with a nobleman?”
Martin left her no room to answer.
“I met Jane on the road while in my carriage two days hence, and I was so captivated by her beauty my heart wouldn’t allow me to live without her.” He smiled and winked at Jane.
Lies…and more lies. Would she ever tell a truth again? She tried to smile.
“She refused to get into my carriage. My heart fancied it love, and I refused to leave her. After much persuasion, I finally convinced her to accept my plight and agree to wed me with haste. We left for Scotland straightaway.”
Would he have done such if she had met him on the road? She closed her eyes…. By God! She wished that situation had been true. What a mooncalf!
She
