“If I’m discovered, you’ll be arrested.”
As he glanced at her, his expression was grim. “It’s not the plan I’d choose. But the decision is yours.”
She clutched her wineglass like she’d clutched his hands when she’d stumbled on the cliffs. He’d saved her then. She knew he’d save her now.
But at what cost?
“How can I bear marrying you in such a coldhearted arrangement?” she asked rawly.
She waited for another patronizing comment about her love not being real. Instead, he sent her a smile of surpassing tenderness. “You’re the bravest person I know. A pair of nodcocks like the Farrells can’t defeat a girl of your spirit.” His smile faded. “Charis, there’s something else.”
Her lips compressed in a grimace, and she slumped back into her chair. “I don’t think I want to know. Can you tell me tomorrow?”
“The truth will be no easier tomorrow. It never is.”
“What a bleak statement.”
She noticed he looked uncomfortable. He hadn’t looked uncomfortable when he’d informed her he expected her to seek another man’s bed. Or when she’d told him she loved him. No, he’d looked devastated then. As if every hope he’d ever cherished came to nothing.
“Although nonconsummation isn’t grounds for annulment, your stepbrothers will challenge the marriage on any basis they can. You’re a minor and acting against their wishes.”
“Surely if we marry in Jersey, the wedding is legal.”
“Yes. But your stepbrothers will seek or manufacture evidence of collusion or coercion or fraud. We’re safer if we preserve appearances.”
She swallowed. “Spend the days together?”
“And at least one night.”
For a confused moment, she didn’t understand. The statement seemed to contradict everything else he’d said.
It took her a few moments to speak, and she stumbled over the words. “You mean to share my bed.”
“As your husband.” Gideon paused, and the betraying muscle jerked in his cheek as he visibly strove for composure. “Charis, you can’t return to Penrhyn a virgin.”
Eleven
Charis stood in the prow of the sleek little boat as it slid into the harbor at St. Helier. Passing a castle on a causeway, they cut through green water toward the dock.
Ordinarily, she’d be excited to visit the island.
Ordinarily? What in her life had been ordinary since her stepbrothers had forced her to leave her great-aunt? And these last days had piled bizarre circumstance upon bizarre circumstance until her head felt ready to explode.
Yesterday she’d accepted a marriage proposal from the man she loved. Who categorically didn’t love her. Who intended to set her free to fill another man’s bed. After he’d made use of her body.
Once.
Tonight.
She placed a shaking hand over her roiling belly. Her queasy stomach wasn’t the result of seasickness but of crippling nerves.
Dorcas had lent her a rough gown and a thick red woolen cloak more practical than decorative. The village girl who had set out for Gretna in disguise wore a gorgeous emerald velvet cape that had belonged to Gideon’s mother. She and the tall, heavily muffled man who accompanied her had departed with great clatter the evening before.
After that, dinner had been strained and silent. Gideon then sent her upstairs to sleep for a few hours before they left under cover of darkness. But she’d lain awake, struggling to come to terms with her desolate future.
Fate granted her dearest wish and blighted her hopes. All in one stroke.
Before midnight, she and Gideon took the secret passage to the beach. He rowed a small boat past the breakers to where Tulliver and William, one of the villagers, waited to sail them to Jersey.