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She spun around to leave, but that final word sealed up his wound, released Charles’s pride from its maimed cage, and filled him with anger. He reached out, catching her wrist.
With a fierce scowl, she whirled around to face him. “Let me go.”
“Or what?” he countered.
She glanced around them with a wary eye. “I shall tell my father. Or your mother.”
“What can they do?” He pulled her toward him, and she stumbled forward a step. “You are legally mine now, remember?”
Disgust crossed her features. With a swift toss of her head, she motioned to his fingers around her wrist. “I belong to no one. And you swore to feign a happy marriage.”
“Who is to say I am not holding you out of joy?”
“Your hardened gaze would suggest otherwise, sir. Let me go.”
Charles fought with his conscience. He did not wish to harm her—indeed, if she wrenched free, he would certainly release her—but he was so furious, so livid, his fingers refused to lessen their hold.
She was but two years his senior. How dare she call him a child?
You have behaved like a child today, Charles.
That inner doubting voice slithered through his thoughts and pressed him to maintain his hold of her.
“I will not let you go, Marie,” he said. “For you have accused me of being a child, and I am minded to prove you otherwise.”
She scoffed. “How ever will you manage that?”
He forced his breathing to remain level. “By reminding you that I am a true gentleman. And true gentlemen always keep their word.” He stared down at her. “As you said, I have promised to maintain the appearance of a happy marriage, so I think I’ll do just that.”
Uncertainty flickered in her expression. “How?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he shifted his hold of her wrist to grasp her hand instead, then with abrupt movements, he progressed through the ballroom, pulling her swiftly behind him.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, plastering a smile on her lips as she nodded at the curious glances from the people they walked by.
“I am doing what husbands do.”
“And what is that?”
“Spending time alone with my wife.”
Chapter Nine
Marie’s heart was in her throat. They left the ballroom behind, heading in the direction of the doors open to the darkness outside.
She did not attempt to pull away from his touch, determined to maintain composure, though she was grateful to no longer force her smile as they left the ballroom behind.
“This is entirely inappropriate, Mr. Shepherd,” she whispered through clenched teeth as they moved down the steps and farther into the gardens below.
“Not entirely,” he returned. “At least not for married couples.”
Giggles and gasps from nearby couples drifted toward her, but she could not see another soul. Could they see her being dragged by this man-child to who-knew-where?
“People will talk,” she tried again.
“About how we are married? Is that not what you wished for?”
He continued blazing forward, their crunching footsteps on the gravel pathway punctuating the still, night air. Soon, the hedges he pulled her toward grew so tall, only the starry sky was visible above. Fortunately, the light of the moon lit just enough of their pathway forward.
