A Wicked Wager (Avenging Lords 2)

Juliet’s throat grew tight. Not because of nerves this time, but because she suddenly felt safe. Whatever happened between her and Mr Drake, she believed he would protect her until his dying breath. And that brought a brief smile of satisfaction to her face.

Hope fluttered to life in her breast as she examined the mysterious man standing before her. In a moment of fancy, she imagined he loved her. That she, a woman so small and insignificant, could tame this wild, fascinating creature. Was it possible for such a powerful man to feel something other than anger? Was it possible that an oddly matched couple might make a meaningful connection?

Feeding her fantasy, Mr Drake took her right hand and promised to love and cherish her.

When it was Juliet’s turn to do the same, she couldn’t help but smile again for her hand seemed so tiny and fragile against his. As she told him she would love and cherish him, too, she spoke with conviction—she had to believe it was possible. And although her body paled in comparison to Mr Drake’s hulking form, her heart was large enough for both of them.

Somehow, she would come to care for him.

Somehow, she would find a way to make her marriage work.

The Reverend Fisher plucked an odd-looking ring from the open Book of Common Prayer. He handed it Mr Drake, whose eyes held a brief look of wonder as he took the black ring with gold engraving. A smile touched his lips as he slipped it onto the end of Juliet’s finger.

The striking design distracted her temporarily. Gold leaves and flowers covered the black enamel. Tiny crystal teardrops made up the petals. It sparkled when the light caught the stones. It was a ring like none she’d seen before—exotic, breathtaking, far too unusual for a wedding band.

But were they not an unusual pairing?

“Do you like it?” Mr Drake said softly.

“It’s beautiful.”

“I wish I could say I chose it myself, but my friend Mr Dariell deserves the credit.”

Prompted by the reverend, Mr Drake pushed the ring slowly down past her knuckle. The sensation caused heat to flare in her stomach. There was something sensual about the way he claimed her finger, made all the more seductive by his pledge to worship her body.

Judging by the look in his eyes, they were both surprised by the snug fit. Perhaps Mr Dariell had the gift of second sight.

Perhaps he could predict the future, knew Mr Drake would marry a woman half his size.

Mr Drake kept hold of her hand when they knelt to pray. Tingling started in Juliet’s fingers, journeyed up her arm to her heart. Twice, she felt Devlin Drake’s searing gaze. Did he feel these odd sensations, too?

“… and may ever remain in perfect love and peace together …” The reverend’s words struck Juliet like a bolt from the heavens.

What hope had they of finding a perfect love when everything about the match screamed of imperfection?

He was dark and dangerous. She was loyal and loving but had been forced to suppress it. They were marrying for all the wrong reasons—spite, revenge, to prove a point, to settle a wicked wager.

But it was too late for regrets.

The mistake was made.

The reverend bid them to rise, placed his hand over theirs and pronounced them man and wife.

For a moment, Juliet forgot how to breathe.

Thankfully, matters proceeded to the signing of the parish register. Despite having such thick fingers, Mr Drake possessed an aristocratic flare when it came to skill with a quill pen. Hannah scratched her name reluctantly, moaned and groaned that they had forced her to witness such a sham.

When all was done, Devlin Drake captured Juliet’s hand and placed it in the crook of his arm. They left the church in silence. There were no cheers from a waiting crowd, no rose petals thrown to wish them good luck. No chariot to whisk them away to begin an exciting new adventure.

Mr Drake drew Juliet aside, away from the door. “While it is customary for guests to share a meal with the bride and groom, would you rather we were alone?” He towered above her, yet his voice held a hint of warmth that made him appear less threatening.

“I would hardly call our witnesses guests. They are here purely out of necessity.”

“Then you have no objection if I send them home?”

Juliet glanced at the door as her father and Hannah exited the church. Never had she seen such stern faces. Six years was more than enough time to spend with people who despised the ground you walked upon.

“You may do as you see fit, Mr Drake.”