Page 21 of Irish Thoroughbred (Irish Hearts #1)
Adelia jerked out of Travis’s hold as the door shut, fear and despair bubbling into fury. “How could you do that? How could you tell Uncle Paddy you were going to marry me? How could you lie to him that way?”
“I didn’t lie, Adelia,” Travis returned evenly. “I have every intention of marrying you.”
“What are you thinking of, saying such things?” she continued as if he had not spoken. “It’s cruel, with him lying there sick and helpless and trusting you. You had no right to make such a promise. You’ll break his heart, you—”
“Get hold of yourself,” Travis commanded, taking her shoulders and administering a brisk shake. “I told him what he needed to hear, and by God you’ll do what he wants if it helps save him.”
“I’ll not be a party to such a cruel lie.”
The grip on her shoulders increased, but she was beyond physical pain.
“Doesn’t he mean anything to you? Are you so selfish and hardheaded that you can’t make a small sacrifice to help him?
” She flinched as if he had struck her and turned blindly away, her hands gripping the back of a chair.
“We’ll stand in that room this afternoon, and we’ll be married, and you make him believe it’s what you want.
When we know he’s strong enough, you can get a divorce and end it. ”
She drew her hands over her eyes, pain washing over her in turbulent waves. Uncle Paddy lying there half dead—Travis telling me we’re marrying and divorcing in the same breath. Oh, I need someone to tell me what to do, she thought frantically.
To be his wife, to belong to him—she’d wanted it so badly that she hadn’t even dared to think of it, and now he was telling her that it was going to happen, that it had to happen.
She was hurt beyond words. It would have been easier to go through life without him than to be his wife for an hour without his love.
Divorce —he had said it so easily. He was talking of divorce before he had even put the ring on her finger.
Taking a deep breath, she tried to force herself to think clearly, but she was too overcome by the bleak realization that he was not talking of a real marriage, a marriage of love, that he didn’t want her for herself, but rather for her uncle’s sake.
There must be another way. There had to be another way.
She swallowed painfully to steady her voice, “I’m Catholic. I can’t get a divorce,” she said dully.
“An annulment, then.”
She stared at him in horrified silence, “An annulment?”
“Yes, an annulment. It should not be any problem if the marriage isn’t consummated.
It will simply be a matter of a little paperwork.
” He spoke in calm, businesslike tones, and her hands tightened on the chair as she attempted to fight her way through to reason.
“For Pete’s sake, Dee,” he said impatiently, “can’t you go through the motions of a ceremony for Paddy’s sake?
It won’t cost you anything. It could make the difference between his living and dying. ”
He took her shoulders again, spinning her around, checking his anger as he studied the transparent glow to her skin, the fear in her eyes that stared back at him.
He could feel the trembling begin under his hands and watched as she shut her eyes and tried to stem it.
He muttered an oath, then drew her against him and wrapped his arms around her.
“I’m sorry, Dee. Shouting at you is hardly going to make it any easier, is it?
Come on, sit down.” Leading her to a sofa, he sat beside her, keeping her close inside his arms. “You’ve been hanging on to control for too long; have a good cry. Then we’ll talk.”
“No, I don’t cry. I never cry. It doesn’t help.
” She held herself rigid in his grasp, but he continued to hold her close.
“Please, let me go.” She felt her control slipping and struggled against the arms that would not give way.
“I have to think. If I just knew what to do…” Her breath came in short gasps, the trembling no longer controllable, and her hands clutched at his shirtfront to keep from falling. “Travis, I’m so afraid.”
She burst into violent sobs, and his arms tightened around her.
Once the tears escaped, she could not stop them.
Held in check for more than a dozen lonely years, they now flowed freely down her face pressed into Travis’s chest. He kept silent, one hand stroking her hair, and let the storm run its course.
The sobs lost their force, subsiding to soft whimpering, until she lay quiet in his arms, empty and spent. She gave one long shuddering sigh. “I’ll do whatever you think has to be done.”
How Travis arranged the paperwork so quickly, she never questioned. She had been too numb to deal with technicalities. The only stand she had made was to refuse to leave the hospital even for a quick rest or a meal. Determinedly, she had planted herself in the waiting room and refused to budge.
She signed her name on the license where she was told, greeted the slender young priest who would make her Travis’s wife, and accepted a handful of flowers from a friendly nurse who claimed a woman couldn’t be a bride without a bouquet.
She smiled at this, a small, frozen smile that hurt her cheeks, knowing she was not really a bride.
Legally she would bear the name of the man she loved, but the vows they would exchange would mean nothing to him.
The words and motions were only a charade to bring comfort to a sick man.
They stood side by side in the stark room, surrounded by machines, the air heavy with the smell of medicine, and became husband and wife.
Adelia repeated the priest’s words in a calm, clear voice and looked blankly at the signet ring Travis slipped on her finger before closing her fist over it.
It hung loose on her finger and lay like a stone on her heart.
In less than ten minutes it was all over, and she accepted his light, brief kiss without demur.
Adelia Cunnane Grant bent over and kissed her uncle’s brow. He smiled up at her, his eyes lighting with a suggestion of their usual merriment. She knew in that instant that Travis had been right.
“Little Dee,” he muttered, seeking her hand and clinging to it. “You’ll be happy now. Travis is a good man.”
She forced a smile and patted his cheek. “Aye, Uncle Paddy. You’ll rest now, and we’ll be able to bring you home soon.”
“I’ll rest,” he agreed, and his eyes raised above her head to meet Travis’s. “Treat her with care, lad… she’s a Thoroughbred.”
They drove home in silence. The sun broke through patches of clouds to filter on the road. Adelia watched the play of light and kept her mind a blank. Pulling up in front of the main house, Travis broke the heavy silence.
“I called ahead and informed my housekeeper of the wedding. She’ll have prepared your room by now. Your things have been brought over.”
She frowned. “I’m not—”
“For the time being,” he cut in, his eyes narrowing, “you are my wife, and as such you will live in my house. We’ll keep separate bedrooms,” he added in a tone that caused her mouth to shut quickly.
“We will, however, maintain the outward appearance of a married couple. There is no reason for the present that anyone other than you and I know of this arrangement. Explanations now would only complicate matters.”
“I see. You’re right, of course.”
He sighed at the strain in her voice and went on in gentler tones. “I’ll make it as easy on you as possible, Dee. I only ask that you play your part; otherwise you’ll be free to do as you please. There’ll be no need for you to work.”
“I can’t work with the horses?” Adelia broke in, eyes widening in dismay. “But, Travis—”
“Adelia, listen to me.” He cupped her face in his hand.
“You can do as you like. You don’t even know what that means, do you?
” His brows drew together at her blank, bewildered face.
“If you want to work with the horses, you’re free to do so, but not as my employee, as my wife.
You can spend your time lounging around the country club or cleaning out stalls—it’s up to you. ”
“All right.” Slowly, she unclenched the fists that were tight in her lap. “I’ll do my best to make it easy on you as well. I know you were right to do this for Uncle Paddy, and I’m grateful to you.”
He stared at her for another moment, then shrugged and slipped from the car.
When they entered the house, a plump, gray-haired woman bustled into the hall to greet them, wiping her hands on a full, white apron.
“Hannah, this is Adelia, my wife.”
Warm hazel eyes inspected Adelia and smiled in approval.
“Welcome, Mrs. Grant. It’s about time a lovely young thing lured my Travis to the altar.
” Adelia murmured something she hoped was appropriate.
“I’m sorry to hear about Paddy; we’re all fond of him.
” The treacherous tears started again, and Adelia closed her eyes against them.
“Oh, the poor thing’s dead on her feet. Travis, take her up; the room’s ready for her. ”
She started the climb up the staircase, which seemed to take on the proportions of Mount Olympus. Without a word, Travis swept her into his arms and carried her up the remaining steps and down a long, carpeted hallway. Entering a bedroom, he crossed the floor and laid her on a huge four-poster bed.
“I’m sorry.” She lifted her hand and dropped it again. There seemed to be nothing further to say.
He sat next to her and brushed the hair from her cheeks.
“Adelia, when will you learn weakness is not always a flaw? Darned Irish stubbornness,” he muttered, frowning down at her. “I’d swear nothing else kept you on your feet this long. There hasn’t been a whisper of color in your cheeks for the past six hours.”
She stared up at him, wanting to pull him down to her and feel the comfort of his warmth. He turned abruptly and moved to a large cherrywood wardrobe.