Illusion. Emily French

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Illusion - Emily  French

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is it?”

      There was a deep note in Seth’s voice that reached out and touched Sophy, bringing her back to reality. Suddenly her eyes were focused on his, and for a moment both of them were very still. His strongly magnetic eyes seemed to enter her very being and cause some strange fluttering near her heart.

      She waited, aware of a breathless feeling. Her fingers trembled in Seth’s large hand, and she knew he must have felt it. The lines around his mouth deepened, and a muscle flickered in his jaw. His voice was steady, without emotion. “I cannot help you, if I don’t know what is wrong.”

      His fingers tightened on hers, and he smiled, but his eyes gleamed with an unreadable emotion. Sophy’s senses reacted to the subtle force of his personality. There was a cool perception and an underlying intelligence in Seth Weston that she would do well to acknowledge. Deception or lies would not sit well with such a man.

      She licked suddenly dry lips. “If it would not... inconvenience you too much, Mr. Weston, would you consider a marriage in name only?”

      There was a distinct pause, then Seth asked cautiously, “Are you afraid of me, Sophy?” The question hung in the air between them.

      “No.” Abruptly, she felt a searing need to share her secrets. She swallowed and gathered her courage. If they were to start off their married life right, she was going to have to be honest.

      “As a charity worker in the army hospital, I helped tend hundreds of wounded soldiers, both Union and Confederate prisoners. The agony and misery I witnessed affected me deeply. I have sworn that I will never bear a child and so perpetuate the terrible things that brother can do to brother.”

      The harsh contours of Seth’s face seemed to harden at the depth of despair in her voice, but he did not release the grip on her fingers. “The idea still distresses you?”

      She frowned uncertainly. “No. But I made a solemn vow. One which I intend to keep.” Her fingers flexed against his palm. “Now that you know I will never give you a child, do you want to withdraw your offer of marriage?”

      Seth’s eyes narrowed to blue slits as he examined her face carefully. Her eyes were wide, reflecting an appeal of which she wasn’t aware as she waited for his reaction.

      He found his gaze drifting to her mouth, observing the way the lower lip slid beneath small white teeth. Was the action to prevent its trembling? Or a contrived expression of mystery, sensuality and allure? Whichever it was, Sophy van Houten was not what he had anticipated.

      He had expected a weak, easily led woman, helplessly adrift without the support of her father, and instead here was a creature who, though she looked fragile, possessed a devastating candor, an integrity, that set all his preconceived notions of women in a spin.

      Humor flickered briefly in the set features of his face. “Is that all? You don’t want children? That is your terrible confession?”

      Sophy’s chin rose at the trace of amusement in his voice. “I am constantly told I am too unconventional, too reckless, that I must curb my foolish thoughts.” A little ghost of a smile touched her lips. “I am also aware that, even in a city that prides itself in being on the cutting edge of the new morality, to go against custom is to invite ostracism.”

      “Money will open most doors, and we’ve just finished four years of bloodshed to confirm all men are born equal.” He slanted her an odd glance. “In any event, one man’s rose is another man’s cabbage. It seems we have things in common, after all. Children are not high on my list of priorities from this marriage.”

      Recognizing in the simple statement both the truth and the utter insufficiency of the words, Sophy closed her eyes for a moment, relief surging through her. He had no intention of withdrawing his offer, she thought, with a trace of wonder. It was comforting and slightly scary, but it also gave her an oddly warm feeling right behind her breastbone.

      Silence fell around them. Sophy stole another look at him, wishing she could sit here and savor this warm, comfortable feeling for the rest of time. Her fingers quivered a little in the warmth and strength of his clasp, and she smiled brilliantly up at him.

      “We can call it settled, then?”

      Seth went still. The unnatural quietness in him was unnerving. Deep down, it sent prickles of a very primitive, very feminine alarm through her.

      “Not quite.” His voice was gentle. “There is one detail I would like to clarify. It might not be fair to either of us to commit ourselves to the arrangement you propose on a permanent basis.”

      Sophy marveled at the perfectly neutral tone of his words. Whatever happened, marriage or no marriage, would not be a neutral event to her. She leaned forward earnestly, breathing tremulously, searching his face for hidden meanings.

      He was watching her with a startling intensity. “I know that you consider this marriage to be founded on necessity, so I am prepared to wait until you feel comfortable enough to fulfill the...er, shall we call it, duties of a wife.”

      His thumb stroked the back of her hand, tracing the lines of the bones there. “I’ve tried to make it plain that I can’t give you romance. That part of me does not exist anymore.” His jaw tightened. “But I promise to be a faithful husband, Sophy, and I will not act the cuckold. Do you understand?”

      Sophy could feel the tension emanate from his body, a tangible thing, matching her own. A deep wariness and a grim determination lit his eyes, as if he were silently setting down the rules of war. The challenge was there, in his eyes, waiting for her.

      With a feeling of sliding from a great height, she responded, her fingers tight on his. The suggestion of warmth and laughter that was reflected in the curve of her mouth became a full-blown smile.

      “Yes.”

      It was all that she could manage, that one syllable, but nothing could halt the rush of red into her cheeks. She had won a glorious victory! The matter of marital intimacy had been satisfactorily resolved. She had control of herself and the situation.

      Realizing suddenly what he’d agreed to, Seth pulled his hand from hers as if her fingers were a sheaf of snakes. Damn her to hell! Had he consented to a marriage he did not want simply to save a factory? Sold his soul to the devil for thirty pieces of silver?

      No. Not quite true. Most men would kill for a smile like the one she had just given him. The smile that was on her face was like the rising of the sun. A sweet, feminine gift, which dazzled the senses.

      For a second, he’d stepped into an illusion, allowing it to enclose him so completely that he’d felt her delight as if it were his own. And, in reality, the kind of marriage she was offering was precisely the type to which he was most suited.

      They each had something the other wanted, or needed.

      Sophy moved restlessly in her seat, hurt at his abrupt withdrawal. She wanted to leave her hand in his, warm and safe. The pain seemed to grow round her heart, but there was self-deprecation too. She should not have dared to show such foolish emotion before him. She glared at Seth as he poured fresh coffee from the porcelain pot on the cherrywood table.

      An odd smile edged Seth’s mouth as he looked into those well-spaced gray eyes. He raised an eyebrow at her and held up the pot in salute.

      “Well, Miss van Houten,

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