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‘You’ll regret this.’

‘Not as much as you will if you force my hand. Will you waive your complaint against her?’

‘Only out of respect for our name.’

The Viscount glowered at her. His blue eyes, the sole feature he shared with Jacob, were filled with loathing so cold it chilled her to the core. He didn’t look like a man prepared to be merciful, no matter what he might say, and the apprehension already running within her soared to new heights.

‘You may be willing to drag this family into the gutter but I am not. I’ll show clemency this time, but if she crosses me again…’

It struck Meg that Anthony meant the rest of his threat to hang menacingly in the air as he left the room, lingering in a dramatic unfinished warning; but unfortunately for him, when he turned to open the door, he found the way was barred.

Meg’s breath caught. Jacob was holding the door shut with one hand and apparently very little effort, and she couldn’t restrain a gasp at the quiet wrath contained in every line of his carefully impassive face.

‘If my wife ever crosses you, Anthony, that will be something for you and I to discuss. As far as I’m concerned, you need never speak to her again.’

He had bent down to make sure his brother looked him directly in the eye, and as he straightened up he cut a glance towards her. For that fleeting beat she barely recognised him: he was so poised and powerful, he might have been someone else altogether, and she wasn’t sure it was wise for her to like the effect quite so much as she did as he dropped his hand and allowed the Viscount to leave, Anthony scuttling from the room in seething silence that left her in no doubt he’d had more to say.

Meg’s eyes were slitted against the sun as she emerged from the prison’s shadow, but Jacob could see the unease in them all the same. She didn’t allow him to help her down the pitted, uneven steps, instead navigating her way alone, perhaps pointedly setting the tone for their reckless marriage almost before it had begun.

For his part, Jacob had no such decided idea of how to proceed. He’d pretended to have all the answers in order to reassure her, but in truth he had very little clue as to what would happen next. All he’d known for certain was that he’d had to save her, so he’d done the only thing he could think of. As a result she was now his wife, just as he’d always wanted, but rather than being happy about it, he instead found himself adrift in a perilous sea.

This isn’t how I’d pictured it. When I imagined wedding Meg, it was because we both wanted to, not because the alternative for her was banishment or worse.

An awkward silence settled between them as they stepped down onto the cobbled pavement. Meg didn’t seem inclined to break it, her attention on the frayed edge of her shawl, and without anything better to say Jacob offered up the only thing he could think of.

‘My horse is just up ahead. I’ll take you back to the village so you can tell your father what’s happened.’

‘Thank you. I don’t want him to worry a minute longer than he has to.’

Usually he would have offered his arm to a woman he was escorting, but he kept his hands to himself as Meg followed him towards an alley off the bustling and dirty main street. He didn’t think she’d speak again, so it was a surprise when he heard her voice at his elbow.

‘Did you ride here on Starling?’

He turned to her. ‘You remember the name of my horse?’

‘Of course.’ Her eyes slid away from his. ‘There’s very little I’ve forgotten.’

He nodded, determined to project complete indifference. He wasn’t so stupid as to imagine it meant anything that she could recall such small details of their time together. She’d always liked animals, and if she remembered the rides they used to take it was more likely because of the gelding than its owner, something about which he was quick to remind himself.

It was a relief to reach said horse, tethered outside a dubious-looking coffee house. Untying the bay gelding gave Jacob an excuse to focus on something other than Meg for a moment or two, but the reprieve was short lived.

He looked up at the saddle. To take her back to the village they would both have to fit into it, and it suddenly seemed very small indeed.

‘Do you need a hand up?’

He hoped very much that his misgivings hadn’t bled into his voice. The chance to feel Meg in his arms again was altogether too enticing. Sitting so close would give neither anywhere to hide, their bodies moving together as they rode, doubtless stirring other memories far more intimate than the name of his horse…

‘There’s no need.’

Meg set one foot in the nearest stirrup and hauled herself up, swinging her leg over the saddle to sit astride. Doing so made her skirts rise almost to her knees, and Jacob quickly snatched his eyes away before they could settle on the slender length of her bare calf.

‘Fair enough.’

She barely moved as he climbed up behind her. She faced resolutely forward, holding herself stiff as a piece of oak, and she gave no reaction when Jacob reached round her to take the reins. He might as well have been cradling a statue as he turned Starling’s head towards the village road, not even the jolt of the horse’s first step making her start.

Unfortunately for Jacob, his own response was not so restrained.

The moment he felt the warmth of her back against his chest, he almost lost command of his senses.