Alec understood a great deal in that brief explanation. She had livedthrough the death of a man she obviously cared for and her wounds ran deep. Her prank, her desire to flee, made sense and he could see that she wasn’t running from marriage as an institution, merely from the pain it provoked. He suddenly found himself wondering if he could heal her pain.
He had no idea why he was even considering approving the betrothal. He did not want to be married, either, but as he gazed at the glorious red hair and creamy skin, marriage did not look so terrible. With this exquisite creature on his arm, bearing his children, he could redeem a measure of his lost pride. Pride dashed when he lay down his arms and retreated to Blackstone like a coward.
Her pain touched his own. He was intrigued and confused at the same time. The hands that gripped her arms began to caress her of their own accord.
“You certainly do not want to be alone for the rest of your life, do you?” he asked. “’Tis a terrible thing to grow old alone.”
“I would not be alone, I would have Ivy,” she insisted, his caresses causing her mind to scatter, her thoughts to evaporate. The urge to pull away was greater than before; so was the urge to stay.
“But what if Ivy marries and leaves you? You would indeed be alone, all by yourself at St. Cloven.”
She shrugged, attempting to shirk the friction his caresses seemed to create. “I never said that I would never be married. I simply do not wish to be married right now.”
“Now, or in five years. What difference does it make?”
She pulled herself free at that moment, her manner laced with irritation. “It does, that’s all. Why must I explain this to you?”
He looked at her as she backed away, scrutinizing the beautiful face. Far too beautiful to be alone. He almost laughed at himself for being swayed by a pretty face; he thought himself quite immune.
“Because I am the man you are to marry.”
Her eyes widened. “You?” she gasped. “You…. why did not you tell me that before I made a fool of myself and told you all of those…. Oh!” shesuddenly slapped at him, catching his arm. “How dare you not tell me that you were my intended from the very beginning. You let me go on like an idiot and…!” she slapped him again and again, angrily batting his arms and he fought off a laugh as he snatched her hands.
“Do not hit me. I do not like it,” he growled.
She struggled ferociously against his iron grasp. “If I had a dagger, I would do more than hit you! I would slit your throat!”
“Temper, lady. No future wife of mine will speak of slitting throats.”
“Future wi….! I do not want to marry you! Did you not understand one word I said? I do not want you!”
“And I do not particularly want you, but my father is insistent that I marry. So it would seem that we are stuck with one another.”
“Never!” she roared. “I refuse to marry you, Alec Summerlin. I hate you!”
“You do? How unfortunate for you. I am rather fond of myself.”
Her wrestling stopped and she scowled. “You self-centered, pompous boor! Marry yourself, then. I shall not be your wife, not ever!”
He still held her by the wrists, amused at her display of temper. The more she raged, the cooler he became and he could see that his calm infuriated her further. “Never is a long time, my lady. You said yourself you were fearful of being forced to wed someone you did not know. At least you know me.”
“And I hate you!”
“Why?”
She paused in her rage, focusing her sapphire blue eyes on him. “Because…. because you threatened me, treated me with disrespect and humiliated me in front of my sister. And because you completely disregarded my safety by allowing me to fall and strike my head, and…. shall I go on?”
“Please.”
She puckered her lips in an angry pout. Why elsedidshe hate him? Oh, yes. “And because you are far too large. I do not like large men.”
He raised his brows as if he hadn’t heard correctly. “I am toolarge? Christ, what does that have to do with anything? Why should my size cause you this hatred? Moreover, if we are going to sling personal insults, then you are too skinny. And I do not like red hair.”
Her eyes widened at the insult and she succeeded in yanking her hands free of his grip. “And I hate blonds. Why is it that you keep your hair so short? You look like a thistle.”
He folded his massive arms across his chest. “At least my hair is kept and not looking like the tail of a horse.”
He almost laughed at the look of extreme outrage on her face. Her pretty cheeks were flushing bright with anger and he was expecting another barrage of slaps any moment. “You are a giant, a misshapen beast. And you have the disposition of a swine.”
