The Convenient Bride Collection: 9 Romances Grow from Marriage Partnerships Formed Out of Necessity
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Tears smarted in her eyes, and he drew closer. “I knew immediately at breakfast something had changed. You’ve been crying. What’s wrong?”
He took her other arm and pulled her toward him, gazing into her face. “Since yesterday, I’ve dared to hope you could care for me. I want to love the woman I marry with my whole heart. Just as you wonder how you can know if a man loves you for you and not your money. I didn’t think it would be possible to reconcile those two things. But it’s happened. I love you. And I want you to be my wife. If you didn’t have a penny, I’d still want to marry you.”
Anna sat frozen. Fear had reached up and grabbed her heart in its jaws and wouldn’t let go.
“What are you afraid of?” His face darkened like the lowering clouds when she didn’t answer. “Is it because of him? Stuart?” He spat the name out scornfully, and she gasped.
“I’m not him.” He stared down into her face, and she shook her head and turned away.
“Don’t do this, Anna.” She gasped at the intimate use of her first name. “I know you have feelings for me, and you won’t allow yourself—you won’t allow us—the chance to see if they are real. I’m prepared to give up my inheritance for you. That’s how much I love you. I’ve never met such a stubborn fool!”
He turned and stalked away toward the cliff staircase as the sky opened up and rain fell in heavy drops. She stood frozen, blind between the rain and the surge of confusion that had enveloped her, and then she realized he’d started down the staircase.
“No,” she screamed. “Rob, it’s too dangerous!” She ran toward the staircase. “Stop!” she screamed at the top of her voice, but the wind and rain carried her words away, and in the next instant he slipped on the mossy steps and cartwheeled horribly down the stairs until he lay in a limp bundle on the sand below.
The air around her wobbled and spun, and she grabbed the trunk of a tree to steady herself.
“Oh, dear God,” she sobbed. “Please, Lord, let him be all right.”
She hurried down the stairs, knowing where to put her feet, until she reached the bottom of the staircase. He didn’t answer when she called his name, and with great difficulty she managed to turn him over. Blood covered his face from a deep gash over one eyebrow. His right arm lay twisted backward at an awkward angle.
“Rob!” She shook him. “Rob!” She sobbed into his cold neck. “Don’t you die on me. I love you, I love you—do you hear me?” She shook him again harder, and when he didn’t respond, she tore a strip of cloth off her petticoat to bind his wound. The she ran back up the staircase as fast as she dared and on to the house to summon help.
It took DeVille and three burly footmen to carry Rob up the staircase, after improvising a stretcher and hooking the men to a rope tied to a tree for safety. Anna waited as the rain slackened, wringing her hands, tears streaming down her face.
He was still unconscious when they reached the top, his face pale and still.
Her father sent for a physician, and Rob’s valet hastily undressed him in one of the guest bedrooms off the solarium. They covered him in hot blankets. Anna sat on a stool drawn up next to the bed, and held his hand under the blanket.
“You were right,” she whispered. “I was too afraid to admit I’ve fallen in love with you.” She squeezed his cold fingers. There was no response, but a pulse beat slowly in his neck, and his breathing seemed regular. “Please wake up, Rob.”
The doctor arrived to examine him while she waited in the solarium with her father, Nora, and the baron. The revolving clock in the solarium chimed nine, its cheerful tinkling notes at odds with the somber group waiting there. Her father stood apart, resting his forearms on a pedestal, his face hidden in his hands. Anna knew he was praying. But she couldn’t sit still and paced the mosaic tile floor instead. Dear God, let him live. Let him live. She pressed her fist to her mouth and bit down until the pain made her gasp. How could I have been so blind?
DeVille gave her a faint encouraging smile as the minutes ticked by. Nora sat in a corner, her face unreadable, while the servants hovered, waiting for instructions.
When the door hadn’t opened by ten, Anna retreated to the back veranda and sank into a chair. The rain had stopped, and the fresh scent of pine resin lingered in the air.
Her father came and laid a hand on her shoulder. “All will be well, lassie. Have no fear.”
She choked back a sob. “Papa, he’s willing to give up his inheritance for me.”
“I thought he might.”
“Why, Papa?”
“Because that’s the only way ye could know he loved ye for yourself.” He withdrew into the solarium.
“Dearest Lord Jesus, You’ve answered my prayer.” She wiped her eyes. “Now I pray You let him live so I can tell him.”
A sense of peace and well-being washed over her. She felt her heart beating and heard the sound of her breath filling her lungs, and knew the presence of the Lord surrounded her.
A shout came from the solarium, and her father rushed onto the veranda. “He’s awake, lassie.”
She searched his haggard face, afraid to ask. Her father smiled broadly. “He’s going to be fine, lassie. A broken arm, some broken ribs, and a nasty gash is all.”
Her father helped her to her feet, and she ran to the bedroom. Rob’s arm had been neatly splinted, and a white bandage circled his forehead. His eyes were open, fixed on her, and she dropped to the side of the bed, laid her face on his chest, and wept.
His good arm came up and embraced her tightly. “Shhh. All is well.”
She raised her tear-stained face. “You were right. I am a stubborn fool.” She hiccuped. “I do love you. I was afraid, I realize now.”
He laughed and then winced. “I’d have fallen down the staircase two weeks ago if I’d known it would have helped.” His expression sobered. “What were you afraid of, darling?”
“Someone told me something terrible about you. About your character. But underneath I knew it couldn’t be true. And when I saw you lying broken on the sand, I thought I’d never have the chance to tell you I loved you.”
Nora made a choked sound behind them. “I’m so sorry, Anna. Please forgive me,” she wailed and fled the room.
Papa looked at her. “What did she say, Anna?”
Anna swallowed. “That Mr. Radclyfe had … had a child with a woman in London, and abandoned her.”
“What?” Rob tried to sit up then sank down again with a groan.
“Lie still, laddie.” Her father shook his head. “I could have put your doubts to rest, Anna. I had Mr. Radclyfe thoroughly checked out before I gave my consent for him to court you.”
Rob blinked. “Indeed.” He smiled ruefully. “I should have known, Mr. MacDougall. You don’t do anything by half.”
“Nora lied to me.” Anna frowned, trying to understand.
“Either she wanted to save you from her own fate or she couldn’t stand the thought that you might be happy with Mr. Radclyfe.” Her father smiled grimly. “You’ll have to speak with her, lassie.”
“I will. And I will forgive her.” She smiled at Mr. Radclyfe. “But I’m busy at the moment.”
Her father smiled broadly at the two of them. “I’m going to leave for a bit. I’ve something to take care of.”
When he left the room, Rob squeezed her hand and beamed at her. “Despite several broken bones and a devil of a headache, I’m perfectly happy.”
Anna nodded. “My heart is so full it might burst.”
“So you’re going to say yes when I ask you to marry me?” He smiled tenderly.
“Ask me and find out.”
His eyes widened. “I can’t very well get down on my knees. But, Miss Anna MacDougall, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
“Yes,” she said, tears coming again, happy this time. “Yes!”
Renee Yancy is an archaeology nut who’s been writing historical fiction since 2004 and has visited Ireland, Scotland, and England in her quest for historical accu
racy.