Care and Feeding of Pirates Read Online Free PDF Page A

the bed, her head at its foot. She hadn't
cried--Honoria rarely cried. "You heard Christopher's story. It is
true."
    Diana leaned down and hugged her. "Oh,
Honoria, why did you never tell anyone?"
    "Who was I to tell?" She tried to sound
nonchalant, as though it hadn't hurt to keep the secret. "James
disappeared the day of the hanging, and I did not see him for
nearly a year. And then it seemed pointless. The marriage had only
lasted the day. I thought Christopher dead and gone, everything
over." She sat up, raking her hair from her face. "Are you going to
tell James?"
    "Well, I do not see how I can keep it from
him."
    Honoria took Diana's hands in hers. "Please
say nothing for now. I do not want Mr. Templeton to hear of this in
a roundabout fashion, nor do I want to face the gossipmongers."
    "I would never say anything outside the
family, dear."
    Honoria was in too much turmoil to apologize.
Her body still quivered from Christopher's touch, and she'd wanted
to taste his mouth far into the night. If Diana had not interrupted
them, Honoria would gladly have succumbed to him on the floor. Or
on the bed. Or on the windowsill for that matter, while passersby
in Mount Street looked up in astonishment.
    "Please let me think on it," Honoria said.
"Perhaps he will see reason and release me."
    "An annulment is not as easy to obtain as you
might think," Diana said. "Especially when one party is unwilling.
There must be very special circumstances or an embarrassing
affliction on the man's part."
    Honoria very much doubted Christopher would
say that he wanted an annulment because he was impotent. Which he
wasn't. Honoria had felt that quite plainly. Even now she grew warm
as her treacherous mind remembered the exact shape, length, and
feel of his hardness against her body.
    "There is some precedent for a marriage
ending when one of the parties goes missing," she said, her throat
dry.
    In these times of risky traveling, war, and
uncertainty, husbands or wives could be missing for years with no
word. In that case, the remaining person could assume the other
dead and marry again.
    "Yes," Diana said. "The trouble is, he's
turned up again. And you have the license, and he seems determined
to keep the marriage." She slid her arm around Honoria's shoulders.
"But if you like, I can ask my father's man of business, in pure
speculation, of course, what legal steps might be taken."
    "Please, not yet. I want to think."
    Diana patted her shoulder and fell silent.
Honoria hated to impede Diana like this, but she wanted no one to
know her folly until she could decide what to do.
    She needed to talk to Christopher, to
explain, but that might do her little good. Whenever they were
together, Honoria melted into a puddle of lust. Perhaps if the two
of them could meet somewhere neutral, facing each other across a
very wide table, perhaps, with witnesses, she might see a way out
of this mess.
    The trouble was, she could not prevent
Christopher from striding up and down London, proclaiming their
nuptials far and wide. Christopher knew Grayson Finley, who was now
Viscount Stoke. Wouldn't Grayson laugh to hear that the
oh-so-proper Honoria had let herself be talked into marriage with
Christopher Raine?
    Grayson would tell his wife, the beautiful
and ladylike Alexandra, and Alexandra would be shocked. Gossipy
Lady Featherstone would hear the news and delightedly spread it
throughout the ton . Honoria could not run about London
scolding everyone to silence.
    All this was nothing, of course, to what
James would say.
    She needed to speak to Christopher again,
once she had calmed herself. There was no reason they couldn't
speak to each other as reasonable and rational beings. James had
set Christopher free to begin a new life, and now he must begin
it.
    Honoria closed her eyes, feeling again his
hands on her hair, his warm lips parting hers.
    Christopher would go away again. He had to.
Because if he didn't, Honoria would burn up, quickly and quietly,
and be of no use