Deceived by Nicola Cornick Read Free Book Online Page B

was shadowed but in his eyes burned a flame that seared her.
    "You should not have—" she began.
    His expression was hard. "It needed to be done."
    "Time to go," the jailer said from behind them. He fingered the money in his pocket suggestively. "Unless you would prefer to stay a while longer, madam? A cozy cell for the two of you to celebrate wedlock?"
    Wedlock. It sounded very final.
    Marcus raised an eyebrow in inquiry. Isabella wrenched her gaze away from him. "No," she said. "No, thank you."
    Marcus turned away from her without a further word and fell into step before the jailer. He did not look back. Isabella listened as their footsteps faded away and the door of the chapel swung silently closed behind them. For one mad moment, she wanted to run after Marcus and drag him back, make him stay with her. But he had gone. That was it. It was all over.
    The priest touched her arm.
    "You will be wanting to be away from this place, ma'am. Allow me to escort you out."
    Isabella followed him in something of a daze through the warren of shadowed corridors and out into the daylight. The door clanged shut, leaving her out on the street. The air was bright and the afternoon was loud with the vibrant noises of the city. She felt very odd, light-headed and confused, as though she had awoken from a vivid dream, a dream laced with sensuality and long-buried desires. Except that this had been no dream. She was legally married to Marcus Stockhaven—or perhaps illegally, given the circum-stances of their wedding. The thought made her heart clench with emotion.
    His signet ring felt heavy and unfamiliar on her finger. She wondered why he had not pawned it to buy himself more comfort. But a man's pride was a delicate thing and maybe selling off the family's arms was a step too far, even for a debtor in dire straits. He could scarce be said to have graced the Stockhaven name with his behavior.
    He had not sold his signet ring but he had given it to her. Isabella felt a passing regret for the fact that she could not wear it. Nevertheless, she would keep it safe, and once the marriage had been annulled she would send it back to him. No matter that he had said they would meet again. She knew it would be better—safer—never to see him.
    She could feel the marriage certificate stiff in the reticule beneath her arm. She was free and she was secure from arrest, and surely that had to be the most important matter. Yet as she walked quickly out of the labyrinth of alleys that snaked about the Fleet, a deep feeling of disquiet possessed her. She wondered why she was so anxious. After all, Marcus was locked up in debtor's prison and she was at liberty to carry on as though nothing had happened. She had exactly what she wanted.
    For a moment she contemplated what might happen if Marcus were to regain his freedom and a shiver of apprehension shook her. With Marcus imprisoned, she felt safely in control of the situation. Marcus at liberty would be a very different matter. There was no way one could control a man like that. He was too strong, too forceful.
    She turned her face up to the sunshine for comfort and told herself that it was impossible that Marcus would ever be free. Her debts would be dismissed, her inheritance would be proved and then she could pay for an annulment. She had no cause ever to see him again.
    Nevertheless, she felt afraid.
     
    M arcus was lying on the mattress in the empty cell, which was now his own, the book about naval architecture lying untouched by his elbow and a bottle of wine almost as untouched beside it. The cell looked exactly as it had when he had stepped in there in the weak tight of morning. There was nothing to show that Isabella Di Cassilis had ever been there and in doing so had changed his life. There was no sign of her, yet her presence lingered in the air and* wrapped itself about him so that it was impossible to think of anything else.
    During the preceding twelve years he had thought about Isabella