Annabelle's Courtship Read Free Page B

he led her in the seductive steps of the waltz.
    He said, “’Tis only fair, that.”
    “What did you mean when you said I was perfect earlier?” The brown velvet depths of his eyes took on a deeper intensity. “’Tis quite simple. I am in need of a wife and you are perfect.”

Chapter Two
    She must have misunderstood. “Did you just say I would make a perfect wife?” Her voice squeaked on the word wife .
    “Aye.”
    Air whooshed from her lungs. “Why, please?”
    He smiled. “You fit my requirements.”
    “Requirements?” She must stop squeaking.
    “Your looks are not too grand and you are well past the age for marrying. You do not wear expensive jewels or gowns, which bodes well for future demands on my purse.” Annabelle’s elation vanished. She stared at him, her cheeks growing hotter with each sentence he uttered. He listed her particulars as if he were buying a horse at Tattersall’s.
    Although the Marriage Mart was in many ways mercenary, she had never known any gentleman to be quite so blunt about it.
    Her eyes smarted and she blinked at the tears, unwilling to make a spectacle of herself. She had finally met a man that stirred passion in her and he looked at her as nothing more than a dowdy spinster conveniently on hand when he decided to find a wife.
    Ian gently squeezed her, the troubled concern in his eyes small comfort in the face of his words. “Dinna be distressed. You have all the qualities I’m looking for in a wife.”
    “You already said that and it’s not a compliment.” Thoughts kaleidoscoped in her brain like bits of glass crushed and tossed in the air, left to fall where they may. Just like the rest of the ton , Ian saw only her plain looks. He did not see the heart that beat beneath her breast, the mind that longed to share thoughts and ideas with a kindred spirit.
    “I’m not looking for a long engagement. Would you be ready to take up residence in Scotland in a month or so?”

    The words stung her bruised heart like a thousand embroidery needles pricking the message that he did not love her, would never love her. He found her so unremarkable that Ian had no doubt of his success. Resolve beat against her bleeding heart. Ian would soon learn that not all things were as they seemed. Not all bluestocking spinsters longed for wedlock, especially those who had read Wollstonecraft.
    She straightened, pulling as far away as his restraining arms would allow. “I am not interested in marriage. If I were, it would not be to an arrogant Scotsman who believes my lack of face and fortune make me willing to marry on such short acquaintance.”
    “I dinna need a long acquaintance to determine that you are all that I could wish for in a wife. I will make you a proper husband.” He gave her an engaging smile. “We will deal well together.”
    So angry she could not speak, she glared at him.
    “Surely you can see the benefits of marriage to me,” he cajoled her.
    She felt an unladylike urge to box his ears. “On the contrary. I am a modern woman and I do not see the benefits of marriage at all, particularly to you.” Ian’s grasp on her waist tightened. His eyes darkened. “’Tis no my intention to upset you.”
    She felt the tension in his body and it was matched by an unwelcome sensation in her own. She wanted to melt into his embrace. The feeling infuriated her. She struggled to be released from his hold, not caring now if she caused a scene. “Let me go.”
    “Nay, the music has not ended.” His reasonable tone enraged her all the more.
    She was desperate to break his hold on her before her body betrayed itself. How unfair to experience her first taste of desire with a man who believed her too ordinary to court. “Do you really think I wish to dance with you after your insult?”
    “’Twas no an insult, lass. ’Twas a proposal.”
    “My name is not ‘lass’. It is Lady Annabelle, as Ceddy told you these many days past. Are you hard of hearing? Perhaps you need an ear