The Price of Pleasure (Sutherland Brothers 2)

"No, the other things are"--he waved his hand as he searched for words--"well, there are other concerns." He slurred the last. "Bloody hell, I'm about to make her mine, give her everything I have, and I'm probably doing her a disservice. I can't help but think that perhaps she should have had a chance to find a husband naturally, with more prospects. I think she settled on me because I'm the first man she saw as a woman."

"You're not exactly a bad catch."

"Not financially, but I'm not really what she needs. She needs someone closer to her own age. Someone as fun-loving and carefree as she is, not the killjoy she thinks I am. What if I can't make her happy?" Grant stared down at his drink. "Christ, what if she comes to want another?"

Ian shook his head forcefully. "You run that risk with any woman--"

"No, it's worse than that," he said, raising his face, uncaring that Ian saw his pain. "You know how women are always accused of trapping a man in marriage? I think...I think part of me finally gave in because I wanted her bound to me. I didn't want her to have a choice when we return home." Grant's chest twisted when he voiced what he'd done. "I trapped Victoria."

"I didn't think you'd be awake," Tori intoned to Cammy as she entered their hotel room.

"Oh, I just got a drink of wat--Tori, what happened? Where have you been?"

Tori fought the urge to tell her what she had just learned. The news was just too raw, and if she spoke the words "He is ashamed of me," she thought she'd break down again. She'd never felt shame like this before, and now that man had made her feel it so deeply, she thought she would choke on it.

"It's nothing. I'm just being sentimental about the island."

Cammy looked relieved. "I do that too."

They spent the next hour reminiscing about their times there, calling up good memories, but in the back of her mind, Tori realized one thing she'd overlooked. He was going to ask her to marry him. His sense of duty demanded it. She didn't think he'd be easily deterred once he'd made up his mind and his honor was on the line. What to say to him to turn him down? How to approach this to salvage her pride? An idea was forming.

Nineteen

Grant's head was splitting from what he decided was his last hangover. Reality rushed over him in waves. The headache was palpable; his feelings for Victoria were palpable. Both were just facts of life. If Grant drank too much, his head would ache. If Grant made love to Victoria and saw her smile, he'd never settle for another woman. There was nothing to be done for it.

If Victoria came to love another man, it would not be for lack of trying on his part to make her happy. And, of course, it would be over his dead body. He was going to be her husband and, by God, he was going to be good at it.

With his decision made, he felt lighter, more content than he could remember. He couldn't deny that marriage to Victoria was very tempting in certain aspects. Wedding her would give him the right to her body, to do everything he'd been imagining--every touch, every kiss, every way he could join them together--whenever he pleased. He could take what she freely gave him. Only him.

And when the idea arose that she might now be with child, with his child, he became curiously pleased.

During the day, he scoured the city for the perfect ring. Grant had to pay an exorbitant amount, but as soon as he saw the emerald, he knew she had to have it. The color was the same as the water around her island, but this stone shone like fire was inside it. He'd never seen anything like it.

He went to her that night, his spirits high. He would get the issue of marriage settled and then take her to bed somewhere. The anticipation of touching her again was maddening. Thinking about what they'd done together...His lips turned up in what he knew was a wicked grin. He'd teach her something new tonight....

She sent down a message that she was ill.

Panic flew through him. Had he been too rough with her? Was she embarrassed? Victoria had been grinning ear to ear when he left her the night before, and she wasn't easily embarrassed. She must really be sick. Guilt overrode panic. He'd taken her away from Eden to a dirty, congested city.

He couldn't think like that. After they were married, Grant would make sure she always had room to breathe. He'd make her happy in her new life. He sent up a note asking if they would be able to sail on the morning tide. Her response: I am more than ready to leave.

When they sailed the next day, Victoria did look ill. Her eyes were flat. Her face lacked its usual animation. When Camellia kicked her out of her cabin again, Victoria excused herself to his room. He put his hand on her upper arm and pulled her aside. "Are you unwell?"

"Not at all."

Then why do you look as though you hate me? he wanted to rail. He had a fear; he hoped he was wrong. She glared at his hand on her arm, and, baffled, he released her.

Midmorning passed, and Victoria still hadn't made her way to the bridge. She usually brought Grant coffee by this time. Then he saw her. Her long hair was pulled back with a ribbon, and she appeared fresh and young. No sign of sickness.

Anticipation thrummed, but she walked past the ladder and sat on the deck with Ian. She never looked up at him.

Later that day it began to drizzle. Now Victoria would bring him his oilskin jacket as she did whenever it started to rain. He waited for several moments, getting steadily more soaked. Finally, he turned the bridge over to Dooley and made his way to his cabin. She answered his knock in a low, emotionless voice.

Grant felt as though he'd walked into a battlefield when he hadn't known there was a war. He took a chair, though he was unasked.

"It's raining," he said stupidly.

She lay on the bed, curled on her side as she read a book. She gave an uninterested glance toward the porthole and said, "So it is." She licked her finger, then turned a page.

"It's good you weren't on deck. It's going to come down harder." What the devil was he babbling about? She didn't answer, only turned another page.

"Are you feeling well?"

"Splendid." Without looking up, she waved an airy hand at him and said, "Oh, when you close the door, will you lift up on it? It leaks if it isn't in the track. Thanks."

He'd just been dismissed. From his own cabin. But wasn't this what he'd wanted? He'd wanted her to stop looking at him with those adoring green eyes. To stop smiling at him over her cup when she brought coffee.

But that had been before. Before he'd made her his.

What had brought this sudden change between the door of her hotel and the next night? She simply didn't want to have anything to do with him. Maybe it was because she'd expected a proposal, but that didn't explain the bitterness.

What if she knew about him now? Perhaps she'd told Camellia what had happened and Camellia had told her how...wrong Grant was, how a lady shouldn't have been treated as he'd treated her. H

e couldn't take it if Tori looked at him with disgust. His mind seized on the idea that she had wished for a proposal--that it wasn't his behavior--and he held on to it desperately.

"I'll leave, but first we need to talk about some things."

Tori immediately put the book down and rose. "Yes, we do."

"We need to marry."

There, he'd asked her. Well, told her, concluding the proposal she'd known was imminent. Again, she wondered if she'd misunderstood him when he spoke with Ian. What if he was posturing for Ian? The idea gave her hope, but she wouldn't just blindly grasp at it.... "Why should we marry? Do you love me?" she asked bluntly.

He appeared astonished at the idea. Had he never even considered that he might love her? "I am...fond of you."

"Fond?" Her heart broke a little. "What kind of marriage would it be, based on fondness?"

"Strong marriages have been built on less."

"Would you be proud to have me as your wife? Would you show me off to everyone?"

The skin around his eyes grew tight. "You would go everywhere I went."

She paced the room. "That doesn't answer the question. Would you want me to change?"

"I'd hope you'd want to acclimate to society again."

In other words, change. As in, you are not what you need to be. "I wonder if you care for me at all."

"I respect you. I admire your resiliency. I like that you're intelligent and resourceful."

She stood before him, her body tense with anger. "You admire my resiliency? You don't love me, you wouldn't be proud to call me your wife--well, at least not in front of others. Though you certainly liked bedding me."

He stood, his eyes seeming to burn through her. "More than you can know."

She almost lost her will to him then. Almost. Unfortunately, he was confirming everything she'd overheard.

The answer she most needed to know..."Do you feel obligated to marry me?"

He hesitated. "I know the rules, Victoria. I uphold the rules. We must marry."

She wouldn't cry. She couldn't. Be strong. "That's the thing about obligations. People come to resent them. I won't marry you."