The Wedding Bed (The Sun Never Sets, Book One) by Ava Archer Payne Read Free Book Online Page B

is lovely,” she said at last, turning her gaze to him. “Was the estate part of the barony?”
    “No. The barony conveyed nothing but a title, a mass of debt, and the dubious privilege of entrée among the peerage.” He leaned one broad shoulder against the mantle ledge, studying her coolly. “I built this estate and paid for everything within it.”
    Calla stiffened, not missing his obvious implication. “You did not buy me.”
    “Not precisely, no.”
    “No more than your father purchased your mother when he paid a bridal price for her.”
    She h ad the satisfaction of seeing her words hit their mark. He inclined his head, awarding her the point. The tradition of arranged marriages was an archaic one, but its roots were broad and deep, particularly in India. There was no shame in giving oneself in marriage in order to strengthen bonds between families, or achieve some similar end. Lord Keating might enjoy playing the part of an English lord, but as someone who’d been raised in Calcutta, he knew that as well as she did.
    “Mrs. Singh has copies of the betrothal contracts,” she informed him. “I’ll see to it that you have an opportunity to review them before the wedding ceremony.”
    “ Very good.”
    Another thought suddenly occurred to her. “How does one go about finding someone in London?”
    “That depends on who m you’re trying to find.”
    “A young boy—just sixteen, and recently arrived from Calcutta. He came over as a crewman aboard the Ariel . It was his first voyage. His mother is a family friend, and I promised I’d see to his welfare.”
    Derek nodded. “I’d start by writing a note to the ship’s bosun. Bellowes will see that it’s delivered.”
    They stood for a moment in awkward silence. Calla searched her mind for something to say, then she remembered the gift Derek’s mother had entrusted her to deliver. She strode to her valise and reached inside. “I almost forgot. Your mother asked me to give this to you. She had it specially made for our wedding.”
    She passed him a kurta, traditional formal garb for men in India. The knee-length jacket, obviously very dear, was constructed of gray silk and embroidered in tones of rich, deep blue. It was beautiful, and would doubtless be striking on Derek. She looked at him, waiting for him to express his appreciation for the workmanship. Instead, the line of his jaw hardened as he gave a curt nod.
    “Thank you. I shall convey the garment to my valet.”
    She waited for him to say more. When he didn’t, she cast a pointed look in the direction of his rooms, none-too-subtly inviting him to take his leave. “It’s late,” she said. “Perhaps we should both retire.”
    A sardonic smile curved his lips. "What a lovely martyr you are. Resolved to make the ultimate sacrifice for the sake of your family. How very brave."
    “I’m no martyr,” Calla corrected firmly. “This is what I want.”
    “ Really? A loveless marriage to a total stranger? That’s what you want?”
    He stepped toward her, bridging the distance between them with two long strides. He lightly traced his knuckles along her jawbone, unerringly finding the long, thin scar the tiger cub had left on her so many years ago.
    An icy shiver shot down her spine, an involuntary reaction that was part tension, part fear, and part something else—something that made her lean into his touch, rather than away from it , as common sense would have dictated. But the emotion, whatever it was, evaporated the moment he dropped his hand.
    “ Very well,” he said. “Assuming everything’s in order, I’ll direct my solicitor to procure the marriage license tomorrow.” He strode toward the doorway that connected their rooms. Turning back, he said, “Unless, of course, you change your mind.”
    “I won’t.”
    For a moment she thought she saw something other than indifference in his eyes. But the expression, whatever it was, vanished too quickly for her to be certain.
    “ Then know