The Reluctant Bride by Beverley Eikli

Emily wished Bellamy would stop repeatedly marvelling at the fact of Angus’s altered matrimonial state.
    â€˜Good Lord, you didn’t even tell Jonathan? I only saw him the other week. When was the happy day?’ he asked, adding hastily, ‘Of course, it must have been some months ago, naturally …’
    â€˜Naturally,’ Angus replied, dryly.
    When mercifully the guests had departed, Angus turned back from the front door and looked at Emily who was bending down to clear away the tea things. ‘I cannot apologise enough for any embarrassment you’ve suffered. For both my brother’s imprudent speech and for his bringing such a highly unsuitable female into your company.’
    His apology did not provoke the response he might have expected.
    With deliberate care Emily set down the plates once more and turned to look at her husband through narrowed eyes.
    â€˜For contaminating me with a lady of dubious repute? But Angus, how much worse a contaminant would
I
have been had you not married me?’ She patted her swollen belly. ‘You’d be apologising to your brother. A fallen woman—’
    â€˜Don’t speak like that.’ His wide-set eyes burned with undeserved defence of her. ‘Men’s impulses can be ungovernable, but ladies do not suffer such … urges … You were … taken advantage of.’
    Emily stared at him. She sucked in a long, quavering breath as her simmering anger came finally to the boil. Is that what he believed? That she was insensible to passion? And that was a
good
thing?
    â€˜What would you say if I told you that my impulses were every bit as ungovernable as Jack’s?’ She could barely control her anger sufficiently to speak. For days she had forced her feelings into the background, using the same emotional device against her unwanted husband as she had when her father insulted her, shutting out the hurt by erecting a barrier as impenetrable as steel.
    Now, feeling surged through her, blackening her vision and causing her to sway. She put her hand on the back of the sofa to steady herself.
    Angus stood awkwardly by the door, as if unsure whether to move closer to support her, or beat a tactful retreat.
    Emily glared at him. ‘What if I told you that I was so consumed by passion in Jack’s arms I would not have heeded the Blessed Virgin Mary cautioning me against the temptations of the flesh?’ She tried to regulate her breathing, but the rage was clawing its way further up her body, threatening to make her its puppet. She, who never lost her temper. ‘I loved Jack. I was his slave in passion, every bit as culpable as he. If you are so concerned for virtue, spare your condemnation of innocent Miss Galway. You need only cast your eyes upon your wife to be singed by my sin. There! I have confessed my true nature. Whatever you thought of me before, you cannot but think worse of me now.’ She registered the horror in his eyes and was glad for it. Much better that she banish any pretence between them.
    She’d never expressed anger as poisonous as this. At first it frightened her, then it sent exhilaration pulsing through her. Her love for Jack had been cut off at the root. Now hatred filled her veins, making her feel alive again. ‘And so you know, I care nothing for your opinion,’ she added. She managed to remain upright, though her vision came in waves. She could feel her strength leaving her, but she had to spit out the truth so he’d have no illusions as to the kind of woman he’d married. A woman no good man deserved. ‘You married me because you needed a wife. I married you so I could keep my child. We made a contract. My body is yours to do with as you please, but that is
all
you will ever have. My thoughts, my feelings, my love will be forever out of bounds to you.’
    She flinched from his touch, saw concern replace his horror as he gently pushed her down onto