Page 10 of A Momentary Marriage

He let out a dry laugh, surprising her. “Trust me, Miss Hinsdale, the way I feel now, lust is the furthest thing from my mind.”

“What about in the future?”

He looked at her flatly. “There won’t be any future.”

Nonplussed, Laura simply stared at him. James released a long sigh and sank onto one of the chairs at the table, gesturing wearily at the other. “Please, sit down. Let me begin again.”

“Very well.” She sat down on the edge of the seat, as if any action might break the fragile truce.

James looked straight into her eyes. “I am dying.”

Laura sucked in her breath. “You are sure? That’s why you came to see Papa?”

“Yes, on both counts. I have spent the past several weeks going from one doctor to another. I have been diagnosed with everything from a bad heart to brain fever to tumors. But all are agreed on one thing: I am not long for this world.” He delivered his news with a flat calm, almost as if he were discussing someone else.

“Oh.” Laura’s face softened.

“I don’t want your pity.” His voice was sharp and cold. “I am telling you this so you understand I have no intention of robbing you of your virtue. I won’t demand my husbandly rights. And you will not have to be my wife long before you are my widow. At that time you will inherit nearly everything except the title and the estate attached to it, which must go to my brother Claude. In short, I am offering you a golden opportunity.”

“But why?” she asked softly. “Why would you wish to leave all that to me?”

“What I wish is to not leave all that to them.”

“Who?”

“My family.”

“You intend to disinherit your family?” She gaped at him. “You feel nothing for them?”

“Little that is good.”

“Well.” Laura sat back. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, given your reputation for caring for no one.”

“That’s not entirely true. I care for my dog. And I am entrusting him to you.”

He really meant it, Laura realized. He was dying. And however bizarre it was, however impersonal, he was offering to marry her. “This is absurd.”

“I had some difficulty believing it myself.”

Laura blushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“No need to apologize. As I’ve said, I prefer straight speech.”

“It’s just—this is so odd, so—I cannot help but think you are making sport of me.”

James leaned forward, resting one arm on the table. His eyes were silver in their intensity, and the piercing gaze he directed at her caused an odd, uneasy feeling in her very center.

“I don’t play games, Miss Hinsdale. However low you may think me, I do not lie. Did I deceive you when I told you Graeme’s circumstances? Did I try to soften it in any way when I said you must give him up?”

“No, you certainly did not.” She felt on more solid ground here. “But neither do you do anything without good reason.”

“Perhaps I’m hoping to atone for my past sins,” he told her lightly. He turned to look out the window, his face momentarily bleak. “Or maybe I just don’t want to face the end alone.”

He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping across the stone. “Much as I relish sitting here exchanging barbs with you, Miss Hinsdale, as you might guess, I haven’t the time to spare. What is your answer?” He went on in a needling tone, “Will you throw yourself off the wall, like a perfect heroine of Scott’s, rather than marry this black-hearted villain?”

Laura glared. The moment one began to feel a bit of sympathy for the man, he immediately trampled all over it with his sarcastic goading. She would have liked to throw his offer back in his face, just to thwart him. But she was all too aware of the hard, lonely future that awaited her and, admittedly, too pragmatic to let annoyance rule her.

“No. I mean, yes. Oh, bother. What I’m trying to say is I am no romantic heroine. And however mad you may be, I accept your offer of marriage.”