The Marriage Lesson Read Free Page A

definitely drunk.”
“Drunk?” He raised his chin in an annoyingly haughty manner and stared down his nose at her. “I most certainly am not drunk. I do not get drunk. I occasionally imbibe a bit more than is wise in my effort to live life to its fullest—”
    “Its fullest tankard, no doubt.”
    “Hah. I know your type.” He pointed an accusing finger at her. “You’re one of those women who believes men should be respectable and responsible at all times and never have a bit of good fun.”
    “I am not.” She laughed in spite of herself. “I was right all along. You are a lunatic. Worse, a tipsy lunatic.”
    “I am hardly a lunatic, tipsy or any other kind. Admittedly, I have had a fair amount to drink tonight, but not substantially more than usual.”
    “I wouldn’t boast about it, if I were you.”
    “I am not you and I am not boasting. I am simply stating a fact. I am not in my cups and I am more than capable of doing whatever requires doing. Or whatever I wish to do, for that matter.”
    “Really? I doubt that. A moment ago you weren’t certain whether I was real or something you’d conjured out of thin air and shadow. Just what do you wish to do?”
    “Nothing in particular at the moment.” He stared at her and she noted that interesting gleam had returned to his eye. “Or rather, I might wish to make certain the vision who has intruded on my solitude is indeed real and not an apparition conjured by an inebriated mind.”
“How would you determine that?”
    “A kiss should suffice for proof.” He stepped toward her. “To verify she is indeed flesh and blood.”
    “I can assure you—”
    Before she could say another word, he strode to her and took her in his arms.
    Her book slipped from her hand and she stared up at him, at once struck by how very much this was like a scene from a novel. A scene in which the dashing hero embraces the courageous heroine and kisses her senseless. She should probably be afraid but at the moment she felt rather courageous, and if nothing else, he was more than a little dashing. Excitement raced up her spine. She’d never had the opportunity to be kissed senseless before. Or kissed at all. Marianne stared into his eyes and smiled. “Very well.”
    “Very well?” He frowned down at her and his puzzled expression changed to one of horror. “Bloody hell.” Without warning, he released her and stepped back. “You’re that Merry-person!”
    “Well, I hardly feel at all merry right now, although I was beginning to feel somewhat giddy.” She tilted her head and grinned. “Aren’t you going to kiss me?”
    “No! Absolutely not! Never!” His eyes widened and he backed away from her as if she were plague-ridden.
    “Never?” She drew her brows together and planted her hands on her hips. “How very impolite of you. Whyever not?”
    “Because you’re Merry . . .  Merry—”
“I told you, I’m not at all merry, but I am getting a bit annoyed.”
    “No, blast it all, that’s not what I meant.” He blew a frustrated breath. “Your name is Merry. Merry something-or-other. What is your name, anyway?”
    She rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. It was obviously too much to expect that a man who scarcely remembered her face would remember her name. “It’s Marianne.”
    “You’re Richard’s sister.” Helmsley groaned. “Good God, I almost ravished Richard’s sister.”
    “You were going to ravish me?” Delight surged through her. “How exciting. I’ve never been ravished before.”
    “And you shall not be ravished now.” He turned on his heel and stalked to a table bearing a decanter of brandy. He glanced around in obvious frustration.
    “If you’re looking for your glass, I believe you took it with you when you said good-bye to your friend.”
    “Then I shall get another.” He headed toward the cabinet, but she reached it before him and blocked his way.
    “Don’t you think you’ve had quite enough?”
    “My dear young woman, I have