‘Excuse me, Humphrey,’ Zack said, clenching his hands. ‘It would appear that I am the only man here tonight who hasn’t danced with my wife.’
Chapter Eight
Augusta, who was enjoying the enthusiastic attention she and Shona received, was in good spirits and full of smiles as she observed a hard-faced man she assumed must be Shona’s husband bearing down on them. Ushering the gentleman who was bent over Shona’s hand unceremoniously away, she cast her niece a sharp look.
‘Chin up, my dear...’ she smiled, waving her fan languidly ‘...and smile. Remember what I told you. Flirt just a little and be charm and graciousness personified. Mark my words—you’ll have your husband eating out of your hand before the night is over. If the reception so far is anything to go by, you have already caused something of a stir.’
Shona took a deep breath. Now the moment had come when, for the second time that night, she must come face-to-face with her husband, she was afraid. Accompanied by another gentleman, he stepped in front of her and she was acutely conscious that his eyes were glued to her face as he introduced himself to her aunt, his manner cool yet polite.
‘Why, I am honoured to meet you at last,’ Augusta said, greeting him with a cheerful heartiness. ‘Shona thought you might be here tonight. She was reluctant to come, but it seemed such a pity to leave her all alone when she could be here enjoying herself.’
‘How considerate of you, Lady Franklyn—and how nice of Shona to honour us with her company,’ Zack said, his voice and his eyes like ice as he looked at his wife.
The hard expression on his handsome face caused Shona an involuntary shiver, which was not one of pleasure, but, remembering the part she was playing, she smiled sweetly. Zack introduced Sir Humphrey Seton.
‘I am pleased to make your acquaintance, sir,’ she murmured, and, stirred by some feminine impulse of coquetry—and an urge to annoy her husband—she favoured Sir Humphrey with her most brilliant smile.
‘It’s a pleasure, Lady Harcourt. I had no idea Zack had a wife, let alone such a beautiful one.’ He stepped back and looked at Zack. ‘You should bring your wife to London more often, Zack. Her presence would enhance any event.’
‘Yes,’ he said stiffly. ‘Maybe you’re right, Humphrey.’ As the orchestra began playing a waltz, he held his hand out to his wife. ‘Come, Shona. Let us dance.’
Leading her on to the floor he captured her waist and whirled her into the waltz. Only then did he look down at her.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ he demanded, keeping his voice low so as not to be overheard by others in close proximity.
Beneath his icy calm, such was the force of his fury that Shona flinched, but, catching her aunt’s sharp eyes, she took a deep breath and gave her husband a wide-eyed look of innocence.
‘Why, the same as everyone else, I suppose. When I left you I suddenly realised I wasn’t in the least tired, so I returned to enjoy what is left of the ball.’
‘Are you out to incur my anger? Is that it?’
‘What? More than I have already, you mean?’
‘Don’t be flippant,’ he ground out, his face so close to Shona’s that she could see the ice-cold satanic glitter in his silver-grey eyes. ‘I told you that your behaviour must be beyond reproach. Yet within no time at all here you are. Not content with attending the ball alone and making yourself conspicuous, you have to make me appear ludicrous by flirting with every man present?’ His eyes held hers, full of accusation. ‘Well? What have you to say for yourself?’
With an effort Shona retained her composure as they moved over the dance floor, aswirl with couples moving gracefully to music, lovely and melodic.
‘Nothing. When you’re in this mood, whatever I say in my defence will be futile. For a start I wasn’t flirting. I was merely being polite. Besides, I could hardly wait for my husband to escort me to a ball since we are estranged. What would you have me do? Go slinking around as if I’ve disgraced myself? We may be seeking an annulment, but that doesn’t mean I have to make an outcast of myself. I am sorry if you’re not pleased to see me, Zack, but it’s too late to do anything about it now.’ She spoke firmly, quietly, her eyes unwavering as she met his gaze. She refused to be drawn and, holding her head up, smiled engagingly. How she would like to give his handsome, angry face a resounding slap and cut his conceit, his arrogance down to size, but instead she forced her face to remain calm. ‘I am your wife and will be your equal—not your chattel to be told what I will and will not do.’
‘Will you not? We shall see about that.’
‘If you insist on being disagreeable for what is left of the ball, I suggest you return to your friends. Perhaps they will tolerate your dour mood better than I,’ she said, trying hard not to make eye contact with the brown-haired woman who was watching their every move from the edge of the dance floor. Lady Donnington had positioned herself so that she was in the direct line of vision. Shona caught something indefinable in her eyes. For a moment she couldn’t think what it meant, and then she recognised it. It was the assessment of one woman for another.
‘By introducing me as your wife to your friend, I can only assume you do not wish our marriage to remain a secret. You do realise that people will expect to see us together—will expect us to live together. How will you explain it?’
Struck afresh by her loveliness, it was easy for Zack to forget he hadn’t wanted to marry her. What was difficult was controlling his physical reaction to her nearness. An exercise in fortitude, he thought grimly. His body was achingly aware of her. ‘I don’t have to explain anything to anyone,’ he replied, studying her beneath half-lowered lids with tranquil amusement, torn between torment and tenderness. ‘May I ask what your admirers talked to you about?’
‘You may, but I will not tell you.’
‘Do I have reason to call any of them out?’
Shona found herself smiling, her eyes glowing with repressed laughter. ‘Several. But with so many, you would be hard-pressed to beat them all.’
‘Don’t count on it,’ Zack replied, spinning her round with unnecessary force.
She laughed. ‘Zack, please slow down. You swirl me round so fast I’m beginning to feel quite dizzy.’
‘Perhaps you’ve drunk too many glasses of champagne.’
She was indignant. ‘No, I have not.’
‘Yes, you have—three—or was it four?’
His smile was amused and slightly mocking, which annoyed her. ‘You were watching me?’
He nodded. ‘I had nothing better to do.’
Gazing down at her sublimely flushed upturned face, he wondered how he could have imagined for one moment that he could live without her—that he could purge her from his heart and mind. Every time he looked at her the breath caught in his throat. He cursed himself for letting her affect him this way. She played havoc with his insides, a sensation not normal for him, a man who had always enjoyed a woman casually, on a whim, made love to her for his pleasure. Now this girl from Santamaria needed to be taught a lesson and he could hardly keep his hands off her. He couldn’t believe that his passionate encounters with Shona had left him throbbing for her like a green youth. Yet now, holding her in his arms, there was little he could do to control either the lust throbbing through his veins or the disquietingly tender feelings that were prodding at his heart.
Where was his logic, his easy self-control? Had it all flown away when he had entered into what he believed was a bogus marriage, when he had sworn not to treat her as his wife, firmly subduing his carnal desire? Suddenly she had become the one thing he must have. But he had desired her all along, even when he thought he would never see her again. What in hell’s name was the matter with him? The fact was undeniable. He wanted to make love to her. He wanted to take her immediately. He did not want to keep himself in restraint another moment. How long could he endure having her near wi
thout throwing her down and satisfying himself with her?
Now the anger and surprise of her reappearance in his life and her pronouncement had diminished somewhat and he could think more rationally, he reconsidered her request for an annulment. Despite everything that had transpired between them and unable to lie to himself, he realised he didn’t want an annulment and he would be damned if he would give her one. It mattered to him what happened to this beautiful, intelligent, foolish young wife of his. For the first time in his life he had found a woman who was rare and unspoiled, a woman who had succeeded in touching his heart, which was something all the other women had failed to do. He had no intention of letting her go and this had nothing to do with his battle to gain custody of his daughter.
‘What are you thinking?’ Shona asked, amazed at how relaxed she felt in his arms.
‘About your request for an annulment to our marriage.’
‘And what have you decided?’
‘There will be no annulment, Shona.’
Shona’s eyes widened in amazement. ‘But—I don’t understand. What are you saying?’
He smiled down at her, his gaze dropping to the tantalising creamy swell of her breasts exposed above the bodice of her gown, a sight in which he took a lustful delight.
‘You heard me. I don’t want a divorce—an annulment, call it what you like. I have no intention of letting you out of my sight ever again.’
Shona stared at him, reeling from his incredible words. ‘And if I don’t want to be your wife?’ she said fiercely.
‘But you are my wife, Shona.’
‘I am also a free spirit with an independent will and I wish to leave you.’
‘No, you don’t. You asked me to marry you. Have you considered the consequences of a divorce?’
‘The consequences for whom?’
‘You. It will certainly be unpleasant.’
‘I would imagine divorce is always unpleasant.’
‘It is. You will become notorious in a way you do not deserve. What would you hope to gain?’
‘My freedom.’
His eyes probed hers. ‘And do you want to be free, Shona? Of me?’
Shona searched his face, feeling her heart turn over exactly the way it always did when he looked at her like he was looking at her now. She saw the glow in his half-shuttered eyes kindle slowly into flame. Deep within her, she felt the answering stirrings of longing, a longing to feel the tormenting sweetness of his caress, the stormy passion of his kiss.
But she could not forget the terrible things he had accused her of—of the kind of person he still believed she was. How could a happy relationship be built on such rocky foundations?
The question remained unanswered when the dance ended. Zack led her off the dance floor. His anger was roused once more when other men flocked around her and did not abate as the night wore on. It was no easy matter for Shona to ignore his penetrating, enquiring gaze fixed on her, but she continued to smile more vividly, and to tease and laugh with the gentlemen who came to be introduced with what Zack considered to be infuriating persistence.
Shona smiled sweetly at him when she saw his dark scowl after yet another young rake went on his way on being confronted by Zack’s black look of thunder.
‘Must you look so put out, Zack?’ she reproached. ‘It should flatter your vanity having your friends envy you your wife.’
‘It gives me no satisfaction to see other men coveting my wife.’
They danced together once more. Shona knew Zack was finding it difficult coming to terms with the fact that she was truly his wife. She also knew when he left her side and he and Lady Donnington each left the room via separate doors out on to the terrace. She had seen the subtle look the woman passed to him across the ballroom and the imperceptible nod he gave her in reply.
Suddenly the noise, the colour, the movement and cheerful laughter swirled all about her and she had the feeling she was in the centre of a swiftly moving kaleidoscope. It was all too much. She wanted to get away as soon as possible, to be quiet, secluded, in a space somewhere with no one in it, in which to recover her composure.
Unaware that Shona had observed anything untoward between her husband and Lady Donnington, taking note of her niece’s pallor, Augusta moved to her side. ‘Are you all right, Shona?’
She flashed her a brilliant smile from behind her fan, lifting her head to a queenly angle. ‘Of course. Why ever should I not be? But I am rather tired and I have the beginnings of a headache, so if you don’t mind I think I’ll go home. Zack has gone off with one of his...his friends. If he should come looking for me, please don’t tell him I’ve left just yet. I need some time on my own and the last thing I want is an irate husband arriving on the doorstep at this late hour.’
Augusta looked at her with genuine concern. ‘Very well, but I’ll come with you.’
‘No, I won’t hear of it. Please stay. See—Lady Smythe is beckoning to you. I’ll be perfectly all right.’
‘Well—if you’re sure.’
‘Absolutely.’
Without glancing at the terrace doors, through which Zack emerged at that moment alone, Shona hurried away.
Augusta stood for a moment and watched Zack glance around the ballroom in search of his wife. She had watched the changing expressions move across his fiercely handsome face all evening—from fury to the violent jealousy a man felt when the woman he loved was being coveted by others. From the moment Shona had returned to the ball he had clung to her side and watched her with all the substance of his being, his concentration glued to the slim and elegant figure by his side.
Augusta was certain that no matter what had prompted Shona to slip away from the ball while her husband was otherwise occupied, she was in for an exciting time over the following days. Suddenly, feeling very old, she sighed, envying Shona more than she would ever know her youth, her beauty and, she thought with irritation when she looked at an elderly gentleman looking at her expectantly—a rather gross, unappealing man and already showing signs of running to seed—her husband.
* * *
The house was quiet when Shona arrived with only a footman on duty to open the door. Thomas was on his way to bed when she entered the hall. Contemplating her downcast face, he tried not to show his concern.
‘Ah, Shona. You’re early. I didn’t expect to see you back until the early hours. Mother not with you?’
She shook her head dejectedly. ‘No. I—I’m rather tired and...’
‘Did you meet Lord Harcourt?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you told him?’
‘That we are properly married—yes.’
‘How did he react?’
She shrugged. ‘As I expected. He was shocked—angry. He believes I colluded with Antony to deceive him. I asked him for an annulment, Thomas. A marriage cannot be built on such rocky foundations.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He refused to give me one.’
‘I see. Why did he not escort you home?’
‘Because I didn’t tell him I was leaving. When I saw him go out on to the terrace with Lady Donnington, I thought it was time to go.’ She sighed, giving him an affectionate peck on the cheek before turning to the stairs. ‘I’m sorry, Thomas. Forgive me, but I must go to bed.’
Thomas watched her climb the stairs. He was burdened with guilt. Had he not listened to Antony and believed the marriage was what Shona wanted, she would not be in this unhappy state.
* * *
Returning to the ballroom and finding Shona had left without a word, Zack was at a loss to know what to do about the unholy mess in which he found himself. He had just made arrangements with Caroline to take Victoria on an outing in a few days’ time and now, with his pride and his passions waging a terrible internal war, Zack spent what was lef
t of the night in an exclusive gambling club in St James’s, drinking brandy, playing cards and losing. Feeling plagued by one woman in particular, he emphatically declined the feminine company so willingly offered to him.
* * *
At dawn, when he finally returned to his brother’s town house where he was presently residing, he threw himself into bed and for a short time was able to forget Shona McKenzie-Fitzgerald.
His wife.
* * *
‘Who is Lady Caroline Donnington, Aunt Augusta?’ Shona asked as she swept into her aunt’s bedchamber the morning after the ball, showing no trace of the troubled night she had spent worrying over Zack’s relationship with Lady Donnington.
Having her breakfast in bed, as she was in the habit of doing after a late night, Augusta glanced up at her niece and smiled. ‘My, my, Shona! You look disgustingly bright this morning. I trust your headache is better.’
Shona smiled. ‘Much better. Were you late home?’
‘Not really. I went to the card room to watch a rather interesting game of piquet. Dear me...’ she sighed, buttering a thin piece of bread ‘...Lord Griffith lost a monumental sum of money to Sir Mark Sedgefield, which he can ill afford.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Shona said, sitting on the edge of a chair beside the bed. ‘But you haven’t answered my question.’
‘Didn’t I? What was that, dear?’ Augusta murmured rather absently as she spooned a generous helping of strawberry jam on to her bread.
‘Lady Caroline Donnington? Are you acquainted with her?’
‘Not personally, but I know of her. She was married to Lord Donnington. He was an old man when she married him. I believe she was reluctant to enter into it, but he was terribly wealthy and it was what her disgustingly ambitious parents wanted so they pushed her into it. She was such a shy little thing then. She had a child, I believe—although it’s doubtful Donnington was the father. There was talk that she took a lover while her husband was on his deathbed. As a consequence, he didn’t leave her as well off as she expected to be when he died.’
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