Her eyes glittered like silver blades. “You go to hell. I seduced no one, and you weren’t there, and you don’t know?—”
“I know that you thought that you married an old man who died of a heart attack on the same day you thought you’d married him.”
She jerked up, heedless of his stare and of his words, grasping the robe to her as she leaned against the headboard. “I repeat. Go to hell.”
He rose, plucking up the fallen license. “It looks legal.”
“It is legal! But?—”
“You thought you married an old man. Right?”
Her eyes rose to his. Her lashes fluttered. “I?—”
“Yes?”
“Yes, damn you! But if?—”
“My father’s name was David.”
“Those men called you Hawk.”
“Yes, they did. It is what I’m called, but my Christian name is Andrew.”
She stared at him as if he weren’t just an Indian but perhaps the devil himself. As if he had sprouted horns and a tail.
He laughed softly, feeling a strange sense of bitter justice. “My dear, dear Lady Douglas! You sought to take advantageof an old man. Charm, coerce, seduce, marry. Excite him to death, play the lovely, grieving widow and take over all his vast holdings! Well, it appears my father played a trick on you instead. You’re not a wealthy widow. You’re the wife of a savage. A savage who is very much alive. And in full possession of all that you came out here to acquire.”
“You are an incredibly self-righteous and arrogant ass!” she hissed. “I didn’t attempt to do anything to anyone. I agreed to the marriage?—”
“You didn’t come to acquire Mayfair? To take over the mines? I see—you agreed to the marriage because you were in love with Lord Douglas?” he demanded skeptically.
“Damn you! I cared for him!” she cried.
“Umm. For all of an hour, perhaps, before you catapulted him into an early grave?”
“You son of a bi?—”
“You should watch it. If this paper is legal as you claim, you’re not a widow but a wife,” he interrupted harshly. With a taunting smile, he returned to her side, sitting at the edge of the bed, not touching her, but close. “Remember, the wife of a savage, if you will, who wants no part of you.”
Very regally, she moved back against the bedpost, drawing all the distance between them she possibly could. She remained pale, but her lashes rose, and her eyes focused on his. She had tremendous pride. And nerve—he’d hand her that.
“You needn’t fear, Lord Douglas. Andrew Douglas. I promise, I want no part of you, either.”
“Really?”
“Really!”
He itched to slap her. How dare she look so outraged with him after what she had done? He wanted to shake her, touch her.
Get away from her. It was too easy to see how his father had fallen…
Died.
“Well,” he murmured very softly, bracing one arm over her hips and leaning closer to her. “I’m afraid that’s your misfortune because I do want something from you, my dear wife. I want you to pay for what you did to my father.”
He could hear her grating down on her teeth. She was trying to keep silent, avoid the argument he was baiting. She could not do so. “Get away from me!” she commanded.
He smiled. “I don’t think so. I’ve just acquired a wife.”
