Page 32 of The Wrong Husband (The Davenports #6)

Phoenix

So, this is what it feels like to be at the receiving end of Arthur’s surgical stare.

Showing up at the luncheon on Connor's arm was both terrifying and thrilling. Everyone greeted me with the poise and decorum that befitted the famous Davenports. But there was no denying the way their eyes took everything in.

And now, several hours, and several glasses of brandy later, it seems Arthur is finally ready to stop staring and start talking.

I shift my weight from foot to foot and resist the urge to wring my fingers. Then, because I feel nervousness welling up inside, I tap my chest three times. A few slow breaths, and I start to relax.

On the rare occasions I rebelled, one sharp look from her—those laser eyes—and a quiet word of disappointment, was all it took to snap me back in line.

Later, when I started working as a resident, I found the same thing happened with my supervisors. Their disapproval hit hard. I wanted to impress them, to earn their praise. That’s when I first began using the tapping. It gave me something to hold onto when I felt myself unraveling.

Except, Arthur’s x-ray gaze seems to throw me off balance.

This, despite the fact I haven’t done anything wrong.

Unless you count the fact that I haven’t accepted Connor’s proposal… Yet.

As if sensing my apprehension, Connor pulls me close. It doesn’t occur to me to protest. Instead, I lean into his warmth. The feel of his hard body at my side makes me feel protected. Like I’ve reached a port in the storm and now, nothing can hurt me.

Arthur’s shrewd gaze tracks between us. He nods. The look of satisfaction on his face makes me feel uncomfortable. Surely, it can’t be a good sign that he leans back in his seat with a tiny smile tugging at his lips, like he knows a secret I don’t.

"You going to marry her?" He nods at Connor, who stiffens.

The silence stretches. I hug myself tighter, reluctant to enter this conversation.

All I have to do is open my mouth and say no. Do it. I try to form the words, but they won’t come out.

I can’t stop thinking about the ER and my colleagues whose jobs depend upon it.

And Connor needing to access the money in his trust to help the children…

And…the fact that if Connor weren’t in my life, I would miss him.

The thought of him with someone else? It's inconceivable. That comes as a shock.

I’m not seriously considering Connor’s proposal, am I?

The atmosphere in the room is so heavy, it presses down on my chest, making it difficult to breathe.

Connor’s grip on my shoulder grows stronger, almost to the point of hurting.

The heavy weight is strangely reassuring.

And grounding. My focus is anchored by his presence.

I draw in a few deep breaths, willing the anxiety in the pit of my belly to dissolve.

Next to me, Connor’s body seems to have turned into granite. Unmovable. Unshakeable. The pressure coiled under his skin makes the air around him vibrate. It pushes down on my shoulders, stretching the air between us until it crackles. My head spins with unspoken emotions.

On instinct, I slip my arm around his waist. For a few seconds, his body seems to grow even more still.

Then, a ripple moves under his skin. His body relaxes.

He slides his big palm down to wrap his fingers around my bicep.

His thumb turns a slow circle. Even through the fabric of my dress, I can feel the warmth, like he's branding me.

Arthur tilts his head, a keen look infiltrating his eyes. He opens his mouth to speak. That’s when the Great Dane slumbering at his feet yawns and rises to his feet.

He shakes his big head, pads over to us, and butts my thigh.

His weight is enough for me to sink deeper into Connor, who pulls me flush against him.

I feel the planes of his chest, the jut of his hip, the strong powerful column of his thigh.

His scent seems to envelop me—soothing and arousing, at the same time.

I relax a little more, unable to stop myself from melting into him.

"Guess that answers my question," Arthur drawls.

"What do you mean?" Connor growls from above me.

The Great Dane woofs, looking from me to Connor, then back at me. His jaw is open, and his tongue hangs out. He looks, for all the world, like he’s laughing. "You’re adorable, you know that?" I reach over and scratch him under his jaw. He chuckles.

No, really, this dog is halfway to being human. He’s the most intelligent mutt I've come across. He nuzzles into my palm, then pads back to his place next to Arthur. He turns to face us, before sinking down to his haunches with a sigh.

"What Arthur means is that he would be a blind man not to see that the two of you are a couple, and that he’s keen to find out when the two of you will be married. Isn’t that right, dear?" Imelda fixes Arthur with a stern look.

Arthur’s face grows ruddy. He looks like he’s going to protest, but contents himself with nodding.

He takes Imelda’s hand in his and brings it to his mouth to kiss her fingertips.

"You’re right, my dear. Of course, if Connor wants to have access to his trust, he needs to get married.

In fact…" he lowers her hand and looks at me.

"If he wants to retain control of his patents, he’ll have to tie the knot within the next month. "

Every line of Connor’s body pulls taut. His chest widens. Every muscle fiber in him goes into overdrive, like he’s taken a cortisol hit to his bloodstream. I can feel the rigidity in his posture. If he were wound any tighter, he’d be pre-cardiac.

"Patents?" I frown.

Arthur nods. "Connor made one mistake—he trusted his team to patent his biotech work. I paid them to file the patents in my name. The revenue’s been going to him through the company, but that stops now—unless he gets married.”

A whisper runs around the room. I’m aware that his friends and family are watching the unfolding of the drama. They grow restive, clearly not happy with what they’re seeing. At the same time, they don’t interrupt.

This is, strictly speaking, a family affair. From the corner of my eye, I see one of his brothers shift his weight from foot to foot.

He doesn’t say anything, but the stiffness of his shoulders indicates he’s not happy with Arthur’s negotiating tactic. And that's what it is.

He’s holding Connor’s life’s work over him. And the money that he could use to make a difference in the lives of so many children.

Connor’s face is all hard edges, shadows, and sculpture that’s unflinching. Only the nerve ticking at his temple tells me he’s keeping his temper under control.

I touch his arm. “What are the patents for?”

He rolls his shoulders. “My team developed a seizure-reducing drug for pediatric epilepsy, a beta-cell regeneration therapy that could cure Type 1 Diabetes if caught early, and a treatment that’s helping kids with Cystic Fibrosis live longer,” he says quietly.

“That’s incredible,” I breathe.

He nods. “I had a good team.”

I narrow my eyes. “A team that wouldn’t have made it that far without your involvement, right?”

He exhales. “I was part of the first research group. We made early breakthroughs—funded by money from my grandfather. I sold that IP to bankroll future trials. By then, I was already deep in the field on other assignments. It was…a lot.”

Connor runs a hand through his hair.

“I left the day-to-day to the team my grandfather built. They handled the patents, the legal side. I didn’t know he’d told them to file everything under his name.”

His jaw tightens. A flicker of betrayal darkens his features.

“It’s one of the few times I let my guard down,” he mutters. “I trusted him.” He aims an accusatory look toward his grandfather.

I can’t help but feel sympathetic toward him. I would be really pissed off too if it turned out that my grandfather was holding my patents hostage until I got married.

I have two choices. Let the ER close and watch my colleagues—my second family—lose their jobs. Or marry Connor, and he’ll use his influence to keep it open.

James tilts his head in my direction. I see the question in his eyes. He’s watching me carefully. I only have to say the word, and he’ll step in to help extricate me from this situation.

I shake my head. No, I’m not taking any help from you, I tell him silently. I need to figure this out on my own…

I could walk away. Start over somewhere else, but my conscience won’t let me. This place matters too much.

Am I really going to marry a man I barely know? But can I say no to him? Could I watch him be with another woman—and wonder if he was the one?

And then there’s Drew. I told him it’s over, but marrying Connor so quickly? What will he think? Is it fair for me to move on so quickly? He asked me to marry him! I shouldn't be surprised he's not ready to let go.

As for telling Connor about him—I can’t, yet. Not until we’re married, and the ER is safe. Then, even if he’s not happy with Drew staying under my roof, it won’t affect my colleagues.

Perhaps, marrying Connor could be the impetus Drew needs to move on?

The truth is that, if I’m being honest with myself, I do want to marry Connor.

I’m attracted to him. He cares for me. And while he hasn’t said that he loves me, my instinct says he’s the man for me.

I glance at Arthur. A small thrill runs through me at the thought of proving him wrong. “You’re right. We’re getting married.”

Arthur blinks slowly, a look of incomprehension on his face. Which changes to one of smugness. Huh? Why do I feel like I’ve been manipulated?

Connor whips his head around to glower at me. "What did you say?"

"I’ll marry you.”