A Dangerous Man by Janmarie Anello Page B

along with it? Had he not
paid for it with his pride? With his manhood? With his very
soul?

    Besides, it was time he had an heir. He couldn't chance the
estates falling into Geoffrey's hands. That fool would run
them into the ground, if he didn't lose them at the gaming
tables first. Richard could not allow that to happen. His duty
was to secure the title and property for future generations of
Wextons.
    But what if she were in league with her treacherous father?
    "If you wanted pleasure," she said, her voice shaking,
whether from fury or desire he could not tell, "you should
have married for love, not for money."
    He laughed when he really wanted to sneer, not at her, but at
himself as the truth became stunningly clear. She was an innocent victim in her father's vicious scheme, for naught but a
naive innocent--or an untried youth would ever believe love,
if it even existed between a man and a woman, was a basis for
marriage. A feeling akin to hate, or perhaps it was guilt clawed
at his throat, churned in his gut. He did not want to believe it,
but he did. He wanted to hate her, but he could not.
    She did not deserve it. Nor did she deserve his anger and
resentment. For wasn't she also trapped in a marriage she did
not choose?
    Good God, what a mess. What a bloody, miserable mess.
    He ran his hands over his face, then through his hair.
    Before he could speak, the door popped open.
    A footman in full livery lowered the steps.
    Richard lunged from the carriage, turned to help Leahhis wife, goddammit-to the ground.
    The sound of laughter brought his gaze to the house, where
every window was ablaze with hundreds of candles, the rooms
filled to overflowing with lords and ladies in elegant dress.
    How had he forgotten Rachel's ball?
    What had seemed a good idea at the time-to waylay the gossip regarding his hasty marriage by boldly throwing his
nuptials in society's face-now seemed a horrible punishment to the proud beauty who walked by his side. Of course,
when he'd first conceived the plan, more whisky than blood
had flowed through his veins, not to mention his untamed,
savage fury. At her father, at Geoffrey, at himself and at his
situation.

    He wrapped his hand around Leah's arm, intent now upon
swinging around the side of the house to the gardens, where
they could enter through the lower levels. From there, a short
passage led to the stairs of the private apartments, enabling
them to avoid the crowd. But his brother was awaiting their
arrival.
    Geoffrey pulled open the front door and waved his hand
at the butler, who bellowed, "The Duke and Duchess of St.
Austin."
    "We need dance only one dance," her husband, evil,
wicked man that he was, whispered so close to her ear, his
lips tickled the tender skin on the curve of her neck. "Then
we may retire."
    All Leah wanted was to seek the privacy of her chambers,
wherever those chambers might be, but she donned a bright
smile as if she were the happiest of brides on the happiest day
of her life as he led her into the house, then into the ballroom
where three or four hundred people clustered together, all
staring at her. What else could she do? Turn and run from the
room?
    No one spoke. No one moved. Not even the servants, their
trays of champagne suspended before them, as if hanging in air.
    She might have found their wide-eyed, open-mouthed expressions heartily amusing, if it weren't for the bottomless
feeling in her stomach or the dizziness swirling through her
head. The room was astoundingly large, with a domed ceiling three levels high. Pillars of incense burned in the corners.
Light from the chandeliers shimmered off the gilding and
marble, giving the room a fairy-tale glow.

    Were she a young girl still in the schoolroom, she would
imagine the dark, dangerous man striding along at her side
was an enchanted prince sweeping her away to his kingdom.
    The reality was not so pretty, nor so easily explained.
    She could not even dredge up