Page 90 of My Highland Love

“Madam!” He caught her hand and fell to his knees before her. “Are you ill?”

“My God,” she whispered. “My God.” She looked at him. “This is… no mistake?”

He looked confused.

“There's no possibility Marcus will not follow his father's footsteps?”

“Marcus is the only son. He will one day be the Duke of Ashlund.”

“My God,” she repeated. Then, abruptly looking at the priest, she said, “If I cry off, Marcus couldn't force the wedding?” Would he—could he—actually force her to stay?

“Nae,” the priest answered slowly. “He could not force you.”

“Father, can you tell me why he hid his identity from me?”

“Hid his identity? I dinna' see, exactly—” He frowned. “You knew nothing of his rank?”

She shook her head.

“But everyone knows. Perhaps he assumed you knew.”

“He cannot stop me from changing my mind about the marriage—can he? I left once before and he brought me back.”

Father Whyte looked surprised. “He is a powerful man. I hadn't considered such possibilities, but I suppose he could do almost anything.” The priest hesitated. “My child…”

Elise's heart pounded. “Good Lord, what?”

“In society's eyes, you and Marcus are married. The wedding vows are a mere formality. You have been through a proper courtship.” He didn't acknowledge her unladylike snort. “Everyone assumes—” He stopped. She frowned and he added, “That you already live as husband and wife.”

A jolt of embarrassment warmed her cheeks. She'd been a virgin when Robert married her. The possibility of intimacy outside the marriage bed hadn't occurred to her. But then, she hadn't considered the possibility of intimacy at all after Robert.

“Of course,” Father Whyte added, “if they are wrong…”

Elise laughed again, this time with bitterness. “You won't find redemption for me there, Father.”

“You needn't worry. You are to be wed. As I said, 'tis a formality.”

“A formality which carries the weight of the law.”

“True.”

“And I am free to go?” she insisted.

“Your reputation would be ruined.”

“Bah! I don't care a fig for my reputation.”

“It would be a terrible scandal for Marcus, as well.”

“Would it?” she said with asperity, but guilt surfaced amongst the anger.

A mental picture flashed of the next big headlines in the London Sunday Times, “The Duke Who Married a Murderess.” The fact it was a lie wouldn't matter.

“The announcements have already reached the papers,” Father Whyte said.

“Announcements?” Elise echoed, then said, “But of course.”

“Come,” Father Whyte's expression softened, “there has been some mistake. Marcus is a good man. Surely, you will listen to his explanation.”