“Hattie may need me,” she said. “And Monty, too.”
What if I need you?
Where had that stupid thought emerged from? Ridiculous. He did not need anyone. Not any longer.
“Miss Lethbridge has a family of her own to look after her,” he pointed out firmly. “And Montrose has caused you enough trouble to last a lifetime.”
Catriona’s grip on her skirts tightened, her frown deepening. “But what if Lord Torrington does not regain his memory? And what if Monty should do something foolish?”
He raised a brow. “Lord Torrington will regain his memory or not, regardless of where you are in the world,querida. And it is high time Montrose had to clean up his own messes.”
“Please, my lord. I would prefer to remain in town for a few days at least,” she pressed.
Irritation twisted through him. This entire affair was meant to have been simple. Marry Lady Catriona, travel to Wiltshire to check upon the management of his estate, fuck her until she was breeding. Feel nothing.
“Is it me you object to, or is it Wiltshire?” he bit out, having a suspicion he already knew the answer—both.
“I…” She stared at him, eyes wide, her words trailing off. “Pray do not be angry, my lord. It is merely that you are still very much a stranger to me, and I would prefer some time for us to become acquainted before traveling so far from my family.”
Precisely as he had thought.
“Iam your family now.”
“How can I consider you my family when you intend to leave as soon as possible?” she asked.
He had no answer for that question. At least, not one she would wish to hear. Not one which would mollify her misgiving.
“I am your husband,” he said, and though the word felt strange upon his tongue, it also held a significance. A rightness he could not deny. This woman washis. At last.
The knowledge chased some of the grief crowding his mind.
“Of course you are my husband. That has never been in dispute. Family is a different matter, Lord Rayne.”
For some reason, her formality irked him, seeming to underscore her insistence. “Call me Alessandro, if you please. Iamyour family, whether you like it or not,querida. You are going to bear my son.”
“Or daughter,” she reminded.
Alessandro clenched his jaw. “Preferably the heir first, which is all I require.”
“An heir you have no intention of seeing.” She did not bother to hide the sadness from her voice or her countenance.
“This discussion grows tired, Catriona,” he snapped. “We have already endured it once. I do not like children. You will raise the child. Perhaps, when he is grown, I will be more inclined to meet him, but I make no promises in that regard.”
“No, you make no promises at all, do you, save that you will leave?” she flung back at him, bitterness in her voice.
More anger, the only emotion he welcomed, surged. “The time to air concerns for my stipulations was well before now. You know what I want of you, and you must accept it. My return to Spain has no bearing upon our honeymoon to Wiltshire. Nor does it have any effect upon us here and now.”
“How wrong you are, Alessandro,” she said softly. Sadly.
Warmth settled over him at her use of his given name. For so long, he had been known by either his title orEl Corazón Oscuro. His half-sister Leonora was the only other living person who called him Alessandro. Hearing it again, this time in Catriona’s dulcet voice, affected him. He could not deny it.
The carriage came to a halt.
“We have arrived at your new home,” he said, for continuing to argue with her would be fruitless.
He was returning to Spain as soon as she was with child, and that was that.
*
