A Marriage of Necessity

by Tarah Scott

  She snorted again. “That, I believe.”

  He gave her a critical look. “Your actions were not those of a woman interested in marriage.”

  “You’re basing that on vicious gossip.”

  “Hardly. I am basing that on the fact that you negotiated with me for a night in your bed.”

  She lifted her brows. “I thought it was a night in your bed.”

  His mouth twitched in what she realized was amusement, but the mood vanished almost as quickly as it came. “Let me be very clear on one important point. You will take no lovers until I have an heir and a spare.”

  Fury whipped through her. “I assume the same rule does not apply to you?”

  A cool smile spread across his face. “A man’s by blows will never be mistaken for his heirs.”

  “Then the vows we are about to take mean nothing to you.”

  “On the contrary, they mean a great deal to me. You and our children will have my protection and my support.”

  “But not your loyalty,” she retorted.

  “Make no mistake, my lady, real loyalty takes place outside the bedroom.”

  * * *

  The priest entered the foyer, and Kennedy turned to face him.

  “If you are ready, my lord, my lady,” he said.

  Kennedy nodded and the priest returned to the chapel.

  Kennedy looked at his wife-to-be. “Shall we? He winged his arm toward her.

  She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm, then he led her into the sanctuary and up to the altar. Only half a dozen people sat in the pews, including Anne’s sister and mother. His father’s solicitor sat beside Jacqueline in the left front pew. Kennedy wouldn’t be surprised to find her outside their bed chambers with her ear pressed against the door, so that she could confirm the consummation of the marriage. One other man sat in the third pew. Sir Stirling James. Stirling gave him an almost imperceptible nod as they passed. After the ceremony, Kennedy would speak with him. He wanted to know how Stirling knew of Anne—and got word to his father about her existence.

  They reached the altar. Anne pulled her hand free and turned to face him.

  Christ, he was about to marry a woman who only last week had bartered with him for her charms. She was lovely, there was no doubt about that, but he would have his father’s head for this.

  Kennedy weaved through the ceremony like a man in a dream. When the priest asked for the rings, Kennedy slipped onto her finger the diamond and ruby ring that had been his mother’s. She put on his finger a simple gold band. That, he was surprised to admit, suited him well. The priest pronounced them man and wife and bade Kennedy kiss his wife. He slipped an arm around her slim waist and pulled her closer than intended. She clasped his shoulders and he glimpsed her closed eyes in the instant before his mouth touched hers.

  As he knew they would be, her full lips were soft and warm. The embrace lasted by three heartbeats. She pulled back before he did, and the priest led them to the registry. They signed, but Kennedy felt no relief despite the fact he’d taken the first step toward fulfilling his father’s demands. Unless his search for his sister succeeded, at least three months of hell lay before him, and that was only if he was able to impregnate his wife right away. What would he do if it turned out she was barren, or worse, he was unable to sire a child?

  He couldn’t help a rueful mental laugh. All these years, he’d been careful not to father a by-blow. If he had been careless—or lucky, depending on how one viewed the matter—

  and had sired a bastard, at least he would know he was able to father a child.

  Suddenly, his wife was being hugged by her mother and sister. He was forced to allow Jacqueline to kiss his cheek, and she did the same to Anne, her sister and mother. Mr. Spector shook hands with Kennedy. Kennedy looked back at the pews, but Sir Stirling was gone.

  Forty-five minutes later, they sat at the dining table at his townhouse, partaking of the wedding feast. Kennedy would have gladly sent Jacqueline home, but here she sat to his left, while his wife sat to his right. He wasn’t likely to forget this day for the rest of his life.

  “Will you visit us at Dover Hall, my lord?” Lady Louisa asked him.

  He looked up from his plate and smiled at her. “I beg you, call me Kennedy. We are family now, I am your brother.”

  She beamed. “Then ye must call me Louisa.”

  He nodded. “Thank you, Louisa. As to your question, we will plan a time to visit Dover Hall. For the moment, I have business that keeps me in Edinburgh. Of course, you and your mother are welcome to stay with us as long as you like.”

  “That is most kind of you,” the dowager viscountess said. “Unfortunately, we must return home tomorrow.” She smiled. “Like you, business beckons.”

  He wondered what business the dowager viscountess might have, but he would save that question for another day. “Of course, I understand.”

  “Perhaps we will be fortunate enough for your business to conclude in the not-too-distant future, so that you might come visit us,” she said.

  Kennedy had no intention of going anywhere until his son was born. But he smiled and said, “Perhaps.”

  “Anne can always come and visit us, as well,” Louisa said.

  Kennedy had no intention of allowing her to go anywhere until they had a son, but, again, he said, “Perhaps, though I may want to keep her to myself for just a little while.”

  That comment earned him a startled look from his wife. He didn’t know her well—in truth, he didn’t know her at all—but he had a suspicion that silence wasn’t her normal state, and he wondered if he should be worried.

  “Do you spend much time in Edinburgh, my lady?” Jacqueline asked the dowager viscountess.

  “Nae, the running of Dover Hall demands most of my time.”

  Kennedy forked pheasant into this mouth. Was this the business she spoke of? The running of an estate could monopolize one’s time.

  “Surely you will spend more time here now that Anne and Kennedy are married. Are you certain you cannot stay another two days? We are planning a ball in their honor tomorrow evening.”

  Kennedy snapped his gaze onto Jacqueline. “I know nothing of this.”

  “Your father wanted it to be a surprise, and we had to be sure the preparations were in order before we said anything. I’m pleased to say that we have sent out two hundred invitations.”

  Kennedy thinned his lips. “It didn’t occur to my father that we might have plans?”

  She gave a gentle smile, a mother’s smile, that would have fooled anyone except him. “Your father is not long for this world, Kennedy. Would you deny him something so simple?”

  “It seems I cannot deny him anything.”

  Anne gave him a startled look and Kennedy realized she hadn’t spoken a single word the entire breakfast.

  Jacqueline laid a hand on his arm. “Kennedy, your father wanted me to tell you that he will be sending a wedding gift.”

  Anne’s gaze flicked to Jacqueline’s hand on his arm. Kennedy cursed inwardly. He had intended to keep his life separate from his marriage. Jacqueline, however, clearly had other ideas.

  Chapter Four

  Anne pulled her shawl closer about her shoulders and paced the carpet in front of her bedchamber’s low burning hearth. She was a virgin, but she wasn’t without knowledge of what transpired between a man and a woman. It wasn’t that which had her on edge, however. Well, not totally, at any rate. Part of the problem—a large part of the problem—was that she found her husband attractive. It would be far easier for their marriage of convenience to remain a convenience and nothing more. To make matters worse, he believed she was a loose woman. But was that truly the worst part? She hadn’t missed the way his stepmother laid her hand on his arm. The gesture was intimate, that of lovers. Surely her husband wasn’t having an affair with his father’s wife?

  She stopped and plopped down on the chair in front of the hearth. Why hadn’t she been fortunate enough to simply marry a short, pudg
y man with bad breath? Instead, she married a man who could rival the gods. He clearly had no intention of being faithful to her—not that she’d ever given that much thought. But she would rather not be embroiled in a family drama that would land them in the gossip sheets. Had she married that short, pudgy man with bad breath, in all likelihood, he would have had little opportunity to be unfaithful.

  She braced her elbows on her knees and rested her chin in her hands. She was an idiot. Any man with money could find a woman who would spread her legs for him. Why in God’s name did she care? She had yet to consummate her marriage and already she worried about her husband taking a lover. No doubt, the viscount would have a string of women over the course of their marriage. She would save herself a great deal of grief by giving the matter no more thought. She only hoped his stepmother wasn’t among those lovers.

  What mattered now was the money she would receive upon producing an heir. That attempt would begin tonight. She wished she had a little time to become comfortable in her marriage before having a child. Even a marriage of convenience would take some time to grow accustomed to. But she had no more the luxury of time now than she had a week ago.

  A knock sounded on the side door and she jumped. Good Lord, what was that? The door connecting her rooms to the master’s chamber, she realized. Her heart began to beat fast. Another knock.

  She stood. “Come in.”

  The door open and the viscount entered. He wore a silk robe cinched at the waist. Tanned flesh was visible in the V at his neck. He was even barefoot. Was he naked beneath the robe? She’d never been alone with a man in such a state of undress.

  “Are your mother and sister settled in?” he said.

  Anne nodded. “Yes, thank you. And thank you for having them here.”

  “This is now your home,” he said. “They are welcome anytime.”

  She nodded, he said nothing, and she had the sense that he simply wanted to get the night over with. She recalled their conversation at Lady Peddington’s ball—his implication that a night with him would be well spent. Oddly, he seemed to have lost that bravado.

  “Why did your father choose me to marry you?” she asked.

  He hesitated, then said, “He wanted your title.”

  Anne frowned. “Why would he want my title? He is an earl. My title is meaningless.”

  “But it isn’t meaningless. It’s another feather in his cap. He made a match for me that brought with it an elevated status in society.”

  “Your father is ill. Why would he possibly care about such things?”

  He gave a mirthless laugh. “My father will care about such things from the grave. He has an insatiable desire for power and status.”

  “He would have you marry an impoverished woman just because you could take on the title of viscount?”

  “My current title as Viscount Buchanen is courtesy, because I am his son. That is no longer the case. I am now Viscount Kinsley, and with that comes all the privilege and status, along with the property you own.”

  She tensed. “I informed your father’s solicitor that the property that my father owned would remain mine. Dover Hall will go to our son, but Castle Dòmnallach will remain with my sister.”

  He nodded. “I have no intention of taking possession of your property. I’m only explaining to you my father’s motivation. When my father dies, I will be the sixth Earl of Buchanen and Viscount Kinsley.” He lifted a brow. “Very impressive, do you not agree?”

  Anne noted sarcasm in his voice.

  His expression grew speculative. “I explained why my father chose you. Now, explain why you agreed to marry me.”

  She shrugged. “I would think that should be obvious. I need money.”

  “That’s why a two-hundred-pound bracelet wasn’t worth the night with me,” he said.

  She nodded. There was no use pretending otherwise. “Your father is very anxious to have a grandson.”

  “So anxious, he would offer you five thousand pounds once one is born. That’s a king’s ransom compared to a paltry two-hundred-pound bracelet.”

  He almost sounded offended. “Our marriage is a business agreement,” she said. “Would you prefer I wanted love?”

  He grimaced and said, “God forbid,” with such fervor that she wondered if she should be offended.

  But she said, “Then you are in luck,” with more emphasis than intended, and cursed her temper. “I have a family to care for. That is why I married you. You needed an heir—and your father wanted another title. A perfect match.” She regarded him. “Why did you allow your father to choose your bride?”

  “He wanted me married immediately and I had no preference.”

  “How sad,” she murmured.

  “Do you think so?” he said. “Should a man always be in love?”

  Anne shook her head. This time she had offended him. “A man needn’t be in love to have at least one friend he might be able to choose as a wife.”

  “Perhaps I take more seriously the task of choosing a wife than you did a husband.”

  “On the contrary, I put a great deal of thought into the sort of husband I need.”

  “Your only requirement is that he have enough money to support your ancestral homes.”

  Was he trying to make her angry? For once in her life, she couldn’t be riled so easily. She gave a slow nod. “Aye, I had but one requirement: he must have money. But it seems you had no requirements.”

  “That is where you are mistaken, my sweet. My one requirement was that my father approved.”

  “Perhaps you and I are not so different,” she said. “A man of your rank and wealth, would allow his father to choose his wife for only one reason. Did he threaten to cut you off?” She couldn’t help but smile. “Have no fear, my lord. I admire a man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to pursue it.”

  * * *

  Kennedy stared at his wife for a moment in surprise, then threw back his head and laughed. “At least I will no’ be bored with you, my dear.” His amusement vanished. “Perhaps my father did me more of a good turn that I realized.”

  Her brows shot up. “Never say that is a complement, sir.”

  He chuckled. “A man must give due were due is deserved. I believe I might keep that to myself, however. My father need not know.”

  “When will I meet him?” she asked.

  “Good God, never, if I have anything to say about it.”

  “Surely, he will want to meet me,” she said.

  “If he were a normal father, aye. But he isn’t. He will want to see our son when he is born.”

  Her cheeks pinked prettily, and he realized they’d better get on with the business of the evening. She dark hair tumbled past her shoulders. He took the two steps to her side, then gently removed the shawl from her shoulders and tossed it aside. She wore a practical linen nightshift that didn’t quite hide the rose-colored tips of her breasts. His cock began to rise. Aye, he would have no trouble bedding this woman. When he slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her close, she leaned away from him.

  He looked down at her. “Husbands are often known to show their gratitude with jewelry.”

  Her mouth parted in surprise, then her eyes narrowed, and he realized his mistake. “How very kind of you to show your gratitude to your wife with jewelry. Do you mind if I show mine by selling it?”

  He blinked in surprise, expected anger, but had to laugh again. “Are you always so delightfully honest?”

  “Aye,” she said without hesitation, and he laughed harder.

  Kennedy was forced to release her or laugh in her face. Perhaps the laughter was a delayed response of hysteria. Or perhaps she was simply funny.

  How was he supposed to make love to a woman who kept him laughing? There was only one answer. He stepped, closer yanked her against him, and kissed her. She gave a squeak of surprise. He thought for an instant he would laugh again, then she melted against him and the laughter vanished. She grasped his shoulders as she had when he kisse
d her at the ceremony, but this time, the heat of her fingers penetrated the thin fabric of his silk robe. When she squeezed the hard muscle, he wondered what her fingers would feel like around his hard length.

  He flicked his tongue against her lips. She hesitated, then opened for him. Kennedy slipped his tongue inside her mouth and her tongue cautiously touched his. A jolt of desire tightened his bollocks. The woman could easily bring a man to his knees. A thought struck. She said that her desperation to marry stemmed from a need to care for her family, but what if it was something more? What if she was carrying another man’s child?”

  He wanted to laugh again, only this time the humor was dark. It would serve his father right for Kennedy’s heir to be another man’s offspring. Kennedy, however, wasn’t so certain he liked the idea. He brushed off the thought. If she was already pregnant, that only meant Rose would return home soon.

  Kennedy slid his hand down her back and over the curve of her firm buttocks. She drew a sharp breath as he gently undulated his erection against her belly. He broke the kiss and slid his mouth along her cheek to her ear. When he took her lobe into his mouth and nibbled, she wiggled in his grasp, and he realized he wanted her—badly.

  He swept her into his arms and crossed to the bed. When he laid her on the mattress, her hair fanned around her face just as he’d imagined that first night. She really was lovely. He couldn’t blame her if she carried another man’s child. Hadn’t he told her that a woman had just as much right as a man to see to her pleasures? A woman in her position, however, might find it prudent to bear her husband an heir first. For all he knew, that had been her plan. Perhaps she’d been engaged, and the man jilted her. Whatever the case, he could have done far worse.

  With a flourish, he yanked the tie free on his robe and sloughed it from his back, then came down on top of her. Her soft curves molded to his body as if made for him. He cupped her face between his hands and kissed her gently. Slowly, she slid her hands up his shoulders and wrapped her arms around his neck.