Maria would have appreciated that, for she had been not just spirited but giving and loving. She had been an angel on earth, which was why she had been taken from him so soon. He had not deserved her or her love.
“You are vulgar and cruel, just as I expected you to be,” Lady Catriona said, her cutting words biting through his thoughts. Her chin tipped up. “You may go now, my lord.”
He clenched his jaw at her boldness. He raked her form with a searching stare. Her dress was demure. Her décolletage revealed little beyond the hint of lush breasts. Against his will, Lady Catriona Hamilton stirred him.
“Do you know why I promised your brother I would wed you?” he asked, banishing his unwanted reaction to her.
He was still not certain hewishedto marry this impudent chit. But his reluctant trip to the land of his birth had reminded him he had responsibilities here, and if he did not fulfill them, a man who had disparaged Alessandro’s mother would one day inherit his title. He did not give a damn about the title or the estates, but he did care about thwarting a hateful bastard like Henry Abbott.
“You shot him, Lord Rayne.” She tilted her head. “Did you imagine Montrose would neglect to share such a salient detail with me? Perhaps you thought to shock me, my lord. As you can see, I neither fear you nor wish to continue this audience. Please excuse me.”
She made to sweep past him, but he caught her arm, staying her in a grip that was firm but not punishing. “I shot him in a duel, Lady Catriona. Your brother was drunk, and he almost killed me. I saved myself, making certain to only wound him. So, you see? I am not always cruel. I can be forgiving when I wish.”
“Release me,” she demanded through gritted teeth.
“No.” He smiled, for he was enjoying himself even more now.
The more she fought him, the more he wanted to keep her. He could settle for far worse as his bride. And she was an expedient solution to his problems. More than that, he liked her fire. Even her scorn fascinated him.
“Lord Rayne,” she said, jerking her arm in a useless effort to free herself. “I demand you unhand me.”
“I have not finished speaking with you, Lady Catriona.”
He could not seem to stop staring at her mouth, so pale and pink, the Cupid’s bow taunting him. He had not kissed the lips of another woman since Maria, and it displeased him to realize the first to tempt him was an Englishwoman.
ThisEnglishwoman.
Perhaps he should let her go after all.
“ButIhave finished with you, my lord,” she snapped.
Sí, he should release her and walk away. Obey the urge which had first overwhelmed him, to inform Montrose he needed to find a new means of satisfying his debt of honor. But he could not.
He needed a wife. He required an heir. More than anything, he had to return to Spain. Lady Catriona Hamilton could enable him to accomplish all three. He told himself that was the only reason he lingered.
“What will become of you if you do not wed me, my lady?” he asked her then. “Shall you return to Scotland? Be dependent upon the munificence of your drunkard brother? Become a companion? A governess?”
“Why should you care?” she asked bitterly.
She could not be more different from Maria. She was ice where Maria had been fire, and that pleased him.
He released her arm, gambling she would remain. “I care because I owe Montrose a debt of honor, and I intend to uphold my obligation. But I am also in need of a wife and heir. You will do after all.”
Her brows arched. But she did not go. “I willdo, Lord Rayne?”
“Sí.” Her outrage was almost palpable.
“How generous of you, my lord.” Her voice was acidic. “However, I have no desire to wed.”
He had expected Lady Catriona objected to him because of his Spanish mother and his reputation as the mad earl. But for the first time, it occurred to him that she truly did not want to marry.
“A marriage with me could benefit you greatly, my lady,” he told her, trying a different tactic. “I require a wife and an heir, but I must return to Spain. I will not be living here, which means being my countess will afford you great freedom.”
Her blue eyes narrowed. “You do not intend to live in England?”
Cristo. Never.
“No.”
