Seven Wicked Nights (Turner #1.5)

“It didn’t stop you before.”


“I was upset. Not in my right mind. That shouldn’t have happened. You said so yourself.” She closed her eyes a moment and tried to put the ring of truth and conviction into her words. “It was habit. That’s all. As you said, it’s how we are. That doesn’t make it right. It doesn’t change anything.”

“Meaning?”

“I can’t stay here. I won’t stay here with all”—she waved a hand—“that. Not even for you.”

“For yourself. For God’s sake, Portia.” He ran his hands over the top of his head, leaving his hair in disarray. “I’ll speak frankly, if you don’t mind.”

“Would you?” she said with full irony. “Just this once.”

He threw one arm wide. “I thought the man was going to pull down my britches and kiss my arse.”

She took a step away from him. “You don’t have to marry him.”

“Nor do you.”

“Yes, I do.”

Crispin opened his mouth to speak and then didn’t, then blurted out, “What?”





Chapter Eleven





SHE WATCHED CRISPIN’S EYES get big, and she wasn’t sure whether to laugh at him or be insulted when she realized what he was thinking. She put her hands on his chest and gave him a push. Anger was quite useful at times. It kept her from bursting into tears. “Is that what you think of me?”

“No.”

“That I’m marrying him because of that?”

He refused to be budged. “Why else would a woman feel she has to marry a man?”

“I am not with child, Crispin Hope.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“I didn’t say you were.”

“You thought it.” Her breath caught at the insult. “Go to hell.”

“I’m convinced I shall. Why else would you marry that arse-kissing toady?”

“He’s not.” She made fists of her hands. “Because I want to.”

“He is. Believe me, I have met my share of men like him.” He crossed his arms, and he only did it to make himself seem bigger and more powerful. Well, she wasn’t about to be cowed by him. “I don’t believe you want to marry him. Not ten seconds after I met the man I knew you couldn’t possibly be in love with him. You’re marrying him because you don’t want to be here. There, I’ve said it.”

“You certainly have.” She bit off the words.

Crispin seemed to realize he’d spoken out of turn again, for he flushed. “I won’t apologize for telling you I don’t like him. Someone needs to tell you that you can do better.”

Anger boiled up. She was speechless with it. And thank God, for she’d have said words she would surely regret.

He reached for her, but she stepped to the side, and he missed his target. “Don’t marry him. You shan’t be happy.”

She tucked her hands behind her back and cocked her head. “Will you tell me who I ought to marry? Please. I should like to know. There aren’t many eligible men here. Men I’d want to marry, and it’s been years since any unattached gentleman came to the Grange to ask my brother if an offer would be kindly received.” She rocked on her heels. “The blacksmith is handsome enough, I suppose, but he’s already got a wife. If you tell me to go to London and find a husband there, I’ll never speak to you again. You and Eleanor can dry each others’ tears over that.”

He took her by the shoulders and stared at her. “I’m serious about this. He’s not anything like your equal.”

“You are not my father. Nor are you my brother. Nor anyone else with authority over me. How dare you tell me not to marry a decent man?” She twisted away from him. “Under the circumstances, he’s the best I can do.”

“No, he isn’t.” He grabbed her upper arm and turned her to face him. “Look at me.”

She thwarted him by staring at the sky. Amid the blue, the moon was a pale crescent, washed out by the late winter sun.

“You are a stubborn, stubborn woman. Look at me.”

She did and ought not to have because the moment she did all her resentment evaporated.

“I’ve no authority over you, God knows that’s so. But who else will you trust with the truth? Your sister-in-law? Or will you tell Magnus the reason you’re marrying a man you don’t love?”

“You know I can’t.” Tears burned in her eyes, and she had to look away to keep him from seeing how close she was to tears. She couldn’t. She could not complain to her brother about his wife nor breathe a word about her unhappiness.