Spellbound by Jaimey Grant Page B

myself.”
    “But you have,” she pointed
out reasonably. “You have convinced yourself that you can get out
of this fictional engagement with no interference from your
grandmother. You believe she would never dare to dictate your life
when every action on her part has done just that. Why do you refuse
to acknowledge this?”
    The Duke of Windhaven
dropped his eyes to his glass suddenly. He was afraid he might cry
at this very real assessment of his life. What kind of man was he
to allow an old woman to arrange every nuance of his existence? Was
he a man at all?
    Tristan slumped back down
into his chair, dropping his head into his hands. How was he to
avoid this newest direction his grandmother had taken with his
life?
    “It’s no use, you know,”
murmured his companion kindly. Even in this moment of turmoil, her
throaty voice could still affect him in a purely physical
way.
    “What is no use?” he forced
himself to respond, lifting his face to gaze at her.
    She gave a Gallic shrug.
“This charade. We may as well confess and have the whole thing over
with. I will return to London, hopefully of my own volition and not
in chains, and we will forget we ever met.”
    The duke was surprised at
the painful feeling her words gave him. Forget they had ever met?
Not bloody likely!
    His face brightened
considerably as a new thought suddenly occurred to him. They could
simply go through with the ceremony. She would sign her name to the
marriage license and so would he. It would not be valid, however.
The license would say Lady Rachael Eliot…
    Decisively, he stood.
“Come, we must inform the family of our decision.”
    Raven, a little taken aback
at his sudden control, merely nodded and placed her hand on his
arm. She knew her features showed complacency but inside, she was
quaking with fear. These people had the power to have her taken up
on charges. She didn’t for a second believe some of them wouldn’t
jump at the chance to do so.
    They re-entered the dining
room to find everyone had remained exactly where they had left
them. The duke signaled for everyone’s attention and Raven braced
herself for the expected ridicule and remonstrations.
    “Grandmother, family.
Rachael and I have discussed it and agree to marry on the
morrow.”
    At his words, Raven did the
unthinkable. She fainted.

    “Something tells me your
intended bride was of a different mind altogether.”
    Tristan glared at his
brother. “She was simply overcome by the heat, you
nodcock.”
    Greyden snorted derisively
at that. “In the middle January, brother? At least do me the
courtesy of inventing something more plausible than the heat. I
assure you, grandmother will not believe such a sorry excuse for a
second. She may even determine the real reason behind your little
bird’s distress.”
    “And what is
that?”
    Tristan wasn’t surprised
when his brother suddenly remembered something of import requiring
his attention elsewhere. Tristan was tempted to do the same but he
knew the futility of running. The duchess would simply follow him
and wait until he was done.
    He turned to face the dame.
“Madam?” he inquired politely.
    “Do you think to ignore my
question, Windhaven?”
    He sensed amusement in her
question but was at a loss to determine the source of her
hilarity.
    “Of course not,
grandmother. I merely wonder at your asking it.”
    She chuckled. “I was
eavesdropping, my boy. Greyden mentioned my finding out the truth.
I was simply wondering if you might be willing to tell me and thus
save me distressing amounts of work and worry.”
    The duke smiled slightly.
“I will refrain, madam, since I know how you like a good
mystery.”
    A low groan from the bed
alerted the room’s occupants to the possibility of yet another
eavesdropper. Tristan hurried over, sitting gently on the edge of
the bed.
    “Ra-Rachael.” He prayed his
grandmother didn’t notice the way he stumbled over the name. “How
do you feel?”
    She groaned again.