an exasperated glance. “Gran liked Maria from the very beginning. She just pretended not to, which is why his plan didn’t work. Besides, it’s not the same for my brothers as it is for me and Celia. They can take care of themselves, and Gran knows it. Men have all the power in marriage—they can legally beat their wives, take their money, and force them into anything they please.”
“I hope you’re not saying that
I
would—”
“I’m just saying that’s why Gran wasn’t worried about whom Oliver or Jarret married. But she worries a great deal about whom Celia and I marry, because our future husbands will take us out of her control. Anything could happen.” A devilish gleam lit her eyes. “And
you
will send her into fits.”
This was becoming annoying. “You underestimate your grandmother, my dear.”
“Trust me, I know her too well to do that. But this will push her over the edge—I’m sure of it. The longer we’re betrothed, the more alarmed she’ll get.” She rounded on him with a little cry of delight. “And if she doesn’t, Jarret and Oliver will make sure she does! They definitely won’t approve of you as my husband. They’ll work on her to get her to relent, especially if they think I really mean to marry you.”
She clapped her hands together. “Eventually I’ll have her exactly where I want her, and she’ll be forced to rescind her ultimatum. What a brilliant plan!”
“Only if I agree to it. And I don’t.”
That took the wind out of her sails. “Why not? All you have to do is court me.”
“I don’t want to court you—I want to marry you. Tomorrow, if possible, although I suppose we could push it off a few days—”
“I am
not
going to marry you, Giles!” She planted her hands on her hips. “Can’t you get that through your thick head?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Then why should I help you with your plan? What advantage is there to it for me?”
That finally got through to her. She uttered a low curse that was decidedly unladylike. Then she began to pace again, this time with her pretty brow knit in a frown. “You do have a point. You have every reason to expect something in return.”
“Exactly.”
“I mean, you’ll have to make it a proper courtship, squiring me to balls and parties, giving me little gifts—”
“I thought you said you didn’t like gifts,” Giles pointed out.
“You have to make it convincing.”
“Then I definitely expect compensation.”
You in my bed would be good.
But she’d never agree to that.
“Compensation . . . compensation . . .” Suddenly she faced him, her face bright. “What if I kill off Rockton? Then you won’t have to worry about my books anymore.”
He eyed her skeptically. “You’re not going to murder your most popular character.”
“I can kill off whomever I please. And if I wish to do away with Rockton, I will.”
“You don’t have to say it with such enthusiasm,” he grumbled, not sure he liked the fact that she could dispense with his character as easily as she might throw out an old gown. “Besides, aren’t you worried that killing Rockton will damage your future as an authoress? What if your readers stop buying your books as a result?”
“If I have to marry some officious lord to please Gran, I won’t be able to
write
any books.” When he opened his mouth, she said, “And no, I didn’t mean you. If I married
you
, you’d make sure I never wrote about Rockton again, so either way, he’s got to go.”
He closed his mouth. It was unnerving how she sometimes read his mind.
“So how about it?” she said brightly. “Will you agree to be my pretend fiancé if I agree to kill off Rockton?”
He could point out that killing off Rockton wouldn’t prevent her from starting over with another character based onhim. He could reiterate that her plan was doomed to failure—that her grandmother was no fool and would never let her granddaughter pull the strings. He could argue yet again that
“I hope you’re not saying that
I
would—”
“I’m just saying that’s why Gran wasn’t worried about whom Oliver or Jarret married. But she worries a great deal about whom Celia and I marry, because our future husbands will take us out of her control. Anything could happen.” A devilish gleam lit her eyes. “And
you
will send her into fits.”
This was becoming annoying. “You underestimate your grandmother, my dear.”
“Trust me, I know her too well to do that. But this will push her over the edge—I’m sure of it. The longer we’re betrothed, the more alarmed she’ll get.” She rounded on him with a little cry of delight. “And if she doesn’t, Jarret and Oliver will make sure she does! They definitely won’t approve of you as my husband. They’ll work on her to get her to relent, especially if they think I really mean to marry you.”
She clapped her hands together. “Eventually I’ll have her exactly where I want her, and she’ll be forced to rescind her ultimatum. What a brilliant plan!”
“Only if I agree to it. And I don’t.”
That took the wind out of her sails. “Why not? All you have to do is court me.”
“I don’t want to court you—I want to marry you. Tomorrow, if possible, although I suppose we could push it off a few days—”
“I am
not
going to marry you, Giles!” She planted her hands on her hips. “Can’t you get that through your thick head?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Then why should I help you with your plan? What advantage is there to it for me?”
That finally got through to her. She uttered a low curse that was decidedly unladylike. Then she began to pace again, this time with her pretty brow knit in a frown. “You do have a point. You have every reason to expect something in return.”
“Exactly.”
“I mean, you’ll have to make it a proper courtship, squiring me to balls and parties, giving me little gifts—”
“I thought you said you didn’t like gifts,” Giles pointed out.
“You have to make it convincing.”
“Then I definitely expect compensation.”
You in my bed would be good.
But she’d never agree to that.
“Compensation . . . compensation . . .” Suddenly she faced him, her face bright. “What if I kill off Rockton? Then you won’t have to worry about my books anymore.”
He eyed her skeptically. “You’re not going to murder your most popular character.”
“I can kill off whomever I please. And if I wish to do away with Rockton, I will.”
“You don’t have to say it with such enthusiasm,” he grumbled, not sure he liked the fact that she could dispense with his character as easily as she might throw out an old gown. “Besides, aren’t you worried that killing Rockton will damage your future as an authoress? What if your readers stop buying your books as a result?”
“If I have to marry some officious lord to please Gran, I won’t be able to
write
any books.” When he opened his mouth, she said, “And no, I didn’t mean you. If I married
you
, you’d make sure I never wrote about Rockton again, so either way, he’s got to go.”
He closed his mouth. It was unnerving how she sometimes read his mind.
“So how about it?” she said brightly. “Will you agree to be my pretend fiancé if I agree to kill off Rockton?”
He could point out that killing off Rockton wouldn’t prevent her from starting over with another character based onhim. He could reiterate that her plan was doomed to failure—that her grandmother was no fool and would never let her granddaughter pull the strings. He could argue yet again that
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