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Chapter Thirteen

T he wedding was celebrated two days later. Given the circumstances, no one saw any point in waiting any longer.

In the lavishly decorated chapel, only the family was present. There had been no time to assemble guests, and Sian had preferred to keep things simple.

All throughout the ceremony, she could not help staring at the vase at the foot of the altar, remembering the day not so long ago when Christopher had told her she looked like a bride with her wilted flowers.

Here she was now, a bride in truth even if her attire was as simple as it had been that day.

A dress of pale green linen, a veil held in place by a gold band, and a single ring on her finger.

A few weeks earlier, at her demand, Branwen’s mother, Carys, had started to embroider a cream velvet gown with tiny yellow flowers in preparation for her wedding to Christopher.

Of course, no one had dared suggest she wear the precious garment for her wedding with Lord Cantle.

She’d been told she looked lovely, which was all that mattered. It would not do to cause her groom to regret his generous impulse. Judging from the smile he’d thrown her when she had entered the chapel, he did not.

“Do you, Sian Alys Hunter, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.”

The two little words she’d often imagined saying in front of Christopher could barely pass her lips.

Lord Cantle had already done his part, which meant they were husband and wife.

It was done. She was a married woman—and she wasn’t sure what to feel.

Only that summer, she had been certain her wedding to Christopher was finally going to happen, and she had just become Lady Cantle.

She exited the chapel in a daze and, arm in arm with her new husband, led the way to the main hall, where a small feast had been laid out.

The atmosphere was joyous, but Sian could not help but feel that her family was making an effort on her behalf, only pretending it was what she had wanted all along.

How painfully ironic.

They had been reluctant to see her married to Christopher because of his appalling reputation, but they didn’t seem happier to see her wed to Lord Cantle, who was unanimously considered a good man. Across the table, Jane gave her a smile she returned as best as she could.

Once the sweetmeats had been consumed, Lord Cantle lifted her hand to his lips in a gallant gesture.

Sian’s chest constricted. This would be the most daring physical contact she would experience with a man from now on.

He would likely come to her bed tonight to give the impression their union was being consummated, but he would not touch her, as promised.

Never again would she feel kisses on her lips, caresses on her skin, pleasure deep in her body.

Never again would she even feel desire. Was she ready for such a life?

She stiffened because that was not the question.

There was no other choice. If she couldn’t have Christopher’s kisses on her lips, Christopher’s caresses on her skin, Christopher’s heat inside her, then she wanted no other.

“We shall leave for Clearfield Hall soon, Lady Cantle.”

The announcement caused panic to flare inside Sian.

Leave? She was not ready to leave her family yet and remain in England permanently.

Quite stupidly, considering she had wanted to marry Christopher, who was an Englishman himself, she had always imagined she would end her life in her native country.

Dear, oh dear, her family was right; she hadn’t thought this through.

She disentangled her hand from her husband’s as calmly as she could. “Could we wait a week or two? I think I would like some time to get used to the idea that I am a married woman before we leave.”

“I understand.” His smile was kindness itself.

Sian’s insides withered. She should never have accepted that man’s offer of marriage.

It was not fair to him. She would never make him happy.

“However, I’m afraid we will have to leave at the end of the month.

I have business at Clearfield that cannot wait any longer. ”

“Of course.”

Two weeks. Sian swallowed hard. She had two weeks to get used to her new life.

“May I offer my congratulations, Lady Cantle?”

The dark voice made Sian shiver in delight, a reaction she had no control over.

She would have preferred not to feel anything, but it was hard to do otherwise, considering that for years, her body had responded that way to Christopher’s proximity.

In that moment, even if the image was hardly a flattering one, she felt like a dog responding to its beloved master’s call, and she feared her body would always react in that way no matter what her mind was telling her.

Then the words registered. He had called her by her new title.

So he knew.

She’d been married only for a few days —and in a very private ceremony—and yet he knew about it.

That meant he had either been keeping a close eye on what was happening at Sheridan Manor—and her—or he was staying somewhere so close he’d heard it through one of the few local lords who’d been invited.

She straightened up. It mattered not how he knew. This was what she had been waiting for.

Revenge.

Bracing herself, she turned around.

Arglywdd Mawr .

Sian’s insides collapsed in dismay. Why did he have to be so handsome?

She hadn’t seen him since that awful day he had told her he wasn’t going to marry her, and despite the anguish on his face, he had never looked better.

In the golden evening light, he appeared like an angel fallen down from Heaven.

The tension in his jaw and the spark in his eyes made his masculinity more glaring, not that he would have looked less than stunning otherwise.

Her bones crumbled at the same time as her blood caught ablaze.

A vengeful angel, indeed, come to torment her.

“You may.” Two words. A pathetic effort at conversation, but at least her voice hadn’t wobbled.

“You didn’t waste any time getting married, I see.”

No. But why would she have? The last time she had chosen a husband, it had taken her more than ten years to get him to agree to marry her. And it had ended in a disaster.

“Should I have waited? I don’t see why. It is not as if another man wanted me for himself, after all. I was free to marry whoever I chose.”

The pique fell flat, like a lance thrown by a child falling pitifully short of the knight it was supposed to hit.

Dear Lord, she had woefully overestimated her abilities in this revenge affair.

Or perhaps she was fighting a too-formidable adversary.

Christopher was the embodiment of icy indifference.

Well what had she expected? For him to fall at her knees and beg her to reconsider her decision?

For him to sweep her into his arms and say he could not bear to live without her before taking her mouth in a fiery kiss? Of course, he did neither.

He only stared at her, as impassible as the stone wall behind him.

What was he even doing in the rose garden with her?

Had the decision to come been a sudden, uncontrollable urge, or had he been spying on the comings and goings at Sheridan Manor, waiting for the best moment to find her alone?

Dare she read anything into it? Should she?

The only thing she knew was that she would never manage to exert any sort of revenge on him.

If one of them left the encounter crushed beyond repair, it would be her.

“Tell me, do you want this Lord Cantle like you wanted me?”

No, not like that, I will never want another man like that.

“I married him, didn’t I?”

Not quite a clear affirmation, but it was the best she could do when she was on the verge of collapse. Resisting the urge to sit down, she clasped her hands together. She had to at least appear as if she was not defeated.

“Yes. You definitely married him.”

Christopher bunched his fists. Here was the definitive proof that Sian had wanted him only for his title.

Less than a month after finding out who he was, she was married to another man.

He’d suspected she’d been after a prestigious husband, but to hear it so clearly confirmed was a blow nonetheless.

From the start, she had planned to make an advantageous marriage, trap herself a lord.

Then, when he’d been exposed as a younger son with no prospects, little more than a nobody, she’d reverted to ensnaring a good-natured old man who, he imagined, couldn’t believe his luck at having found himself such a vibrant young wife.

The speed with which she had replaced him, her choice of husband even, made it obvious she had been after only one thing, standing.

No beautiful woman in her prime would shackle herself to a man three times her age if not to gain in consequence.

Had she done to Lord Cantle what she had done to him? Was that why the man had agreed to such a hasty union? He would have thought, with reason, that a woman so willing to use her mouth would make his nights as exciting as could be.

The idea of them together caused his stomach to lurch.

“Why are you so upset?” the minx had the gall to ask when he winced. “You didn’t want to marry me, and now you won’t have to.”

“Why am I so upset? Let me see. Mayhap because you tricked me into fucking you, hoping to have the leverage to trap me into marriage afterward, and now I find out you never really wanted me .”

“It’s not what?—”

“It is. Or are you telling me you suck the cocks of all the men you meet?” She’d been a virgin, but perhaps she’d not been innocent. The notion caused his gut to tighten further. “My. You must spend an awful lot of time on your knees if that is the case.”