Chapter 5 Caught in the Trap

He towed her through the crowds, calling himself every kind of a fool for not

avoiding the trap closing in around him. But he found he couldn't. Something in the

way Wynne looked at him, the unquestioning faith he read in those candid green eyes

made him want to take her under his wing and ensure that nothing ever harmed her. He

didn't stop to analyze his reaction. He only knew that for the past four hours he'd

caught distracting glimpses of her-and of the men stalking her like a pack of feral

dogs. And each time he'd thought her on the verge of selecting one for a husband, it had

felt as though he'd been mule-kicked square in the gut.

He was doing her a favor, he decided. He didn't know why she felt the need to go

to this extreme, why she felt that marriage represented salvation, but he suspected she

only saw the dream, not the reality. If he married her, she'd be free in a short amount of

time. By then, she'd have realized that marriage didn't solve problems, it only added to

them. And she'd be only too happy for an opportunity to escape.

His mouth tightened at his feeble attempts to rationalize a way around the truth. If

he were honest, he'd admit that he cared about just two things-gaining his inheritance

and having this woman in his bed. He wanted her. He wanted her silken limbs wrapped

around him. He wanted to see her in the full flush of passion. Most of all, he wanted herto continue gazing up at him the way she did, the way no one else ever had-with

blatant adoration and trust.

She was a fool to assume him worthy of either. And he was a bigger fool for

condoning it.

Wynne hesitated at the doorway to the dining area, staring in wonder at the feast

laid out before them. "I've never seen so much food in all my life," she whispered.

Jake glanced at the damask-covered tables, piled high with every imaginable

delicacy. The Montagues had spared no expense. His mouth twisted cynically. But then,

considering what they charged for tickets to this ridiculous party, they could afford a

decent spread.

"What would you like?" he asked, amused by the hungry greed she made no effort

to conceal.

"Some of everything," she answered promptly. "Let's start with the desserts."

He laughed in genuine amusement, amazed that he still remembered how. "Not

worried about calories?"

"Oh, no," she assured blithely. "I find plenty of ways to burn them off."

He lifted an eyebrow, wondering if she meant that to sound as suggestive as it did.

"Burn them off, how?" he probed, handing her a china plate. "Busy nights?"

She helped herself to a huge slice of fudge cake. "Very." Taking a deep breath, she

glanced at him, her expression determinedly frank. "I work as a waitress and

dishwasher. Correction. I worked as a waitress and dishwasher. I'm not even that

anymore."

Which explained the hands. As for his innuendo, she hadn't picked up on that at

all. Surely she wasn't so naive. He frowned. Or was she? What if she were-he

blanched-a virgin? Hell, he couldn't handle that. Virgins expected permanency.

Commitment. Romance. Virgins expected forever. He needed someone experienced.

Someone who knew what she was getting into. Someone who wouldn't balk when it

came time to perform her marital duties and would then have the gumption to admit as

much to Judge Graydon.

Someone who'd walk away from him without a backward glance.

"How old are you, anyway?" he asked suspiciously.

"Twenty-six."

He couldn't hide his relief. Twenty-six. That was encouraging. There couldn't be

many twenty-six-year-old virgins left in the world. Still...There was something about

her. Something pure and innocent and fresh that made him feel as skittish as a stallion

with his first mare. "You ever slept with a man?" he demanded bluntly.

She didn't appear anywhere near as stunned as the diners who'd overheard his

question. She tilted her head to one side and blinked up at him. "Should I have?"

"Yes. Without question."

"Oh." She slipped a raspberry tart onto her plate. "Well, if it helps any, I've been

engaged three times."

His hands tightened on his plate. Damnation. Three times. Three men. Three

engagements worth of opportunity to lure his little elf into someone else's bed.

He should feel relieved. Instead he felt murderous. "Three times, huh?"

"Yes."

She looked at him and he read the truth in her eyes. Three men had had her within

their grasp and not held on. Were they blind, stupid, or just crazy? He took her plate out

of her hands and jerked his head toward an open doorway. "Come on. Let's find

someplace private to talk. I want to get this settled."

She cast a wistful glance toward the desserts they'd missed and then accompanied

him out a set of French doors and into the garden. The November desert was

unseasonably warm, the evening chill barely penetrating. Imported trees and shrubbery

glittered with fairy lights, a full moon splashing the pathways with interesting patterns

of illumination and shadow. Tables and benches were recessed into little nooks and,

wandering deeper into the garden, Jake found an empty one.

"Tell me why you want to marry," he began peremptorily, setting their plates on

the table.

She sat, her gown shimmering softly in the subdued starlight, her hair and eyes

burnished with silver. "I was afraid you were going to ask that." She shot him a hopeful

glance, nibbling at a morsel of rum cake. "I don't suppose you'd care to go first?"

"Okay," he consented, shoving his plate to one side. "It's quite simple. I have an

inheritance at stake. I either marry or I lose it." His voice deepened, grew cool and

stark. "And just so you know, I don't intend to lose it."

She lowered her fork and stared at him in astonished delight. "That's wonderful."

He leaned across the table, pinning her with a look of cold displeasure. "I'm about

to lose my inheritance and you think it's wonderful?"

"No, no. You don't understand."

"Then explain it so I will."

"I have an inheritance, too. And the only way I can keep it, is if I marry." She

peeked up at him. "Quite a coincidence, don't you think?"

He lifted an eyebrow, thinking it a little too convenient a coincidence. "Then why

do you need a permanent marriage?" he asked skeptically.

"I told you. It doesn't have to be permanent. It's just..." She hesitated, as though

choosing her words carefully-something he suspected she didn't often bother with.

"You see, there's this woman. Mrs. Marsh. She wants my inheritance and she'll do

whatever it takes to get it away from me." She frowned, her expression turning fierce.

"She's already scared off three fiancés. That's why I need someone strong, someone

who'll help me fight her."

That explained a lot. Her previous fiancés sounded like total bastards, making

promises they had no intention of keeping. All so they could entice her into their beds,

he didn't doubt. "I don't scare easy," Jake commented. "And I've never yet failed to

keep my word."

She grinned. "I hoped you'd say that. Which leaves only one problem."

Of course. While he'd been distracted by the more pleasurable aspects of having

her as his wife, she'd been baiting her trap. A trap he'd almost fallen into. When would

he learn? Nothing ever came without a price. "What's your problem?" he asked grimly.

"You want a brief marriage. But I don't know how long it will take to get rid of

Mrs. Marsh, to convince her that she can't take my inheritance away from me."

"I don't understand. Once you're married-"

"The inheritance is mine. Legally. But if she finds out it's only a temporary

marriage, she'll never give up. She'll try to get her hands on it after we divorce. She'll

argue that the marriage was just a ruse."

He shrugged. "Then we'll have to make sure she doesn't learn about the divorce."

Wynne nibbled on her lower lip. "If she does, I guess I could find myself another

husband."

Jake stilled, fighting the surge of displeasure her comment stirred. He had no right

to feel that way. Once she'd fulfilled her marital duty, it wasn't any of his business what

Wynne chose to do. He'd help get rid of this Marsh woman for now. Later could take

care of itself. He hesitated, aware their deal wasn't the least equitable. She still had the

chance to find someone else, someone who'd stick around longer, who could guarantee

Mrs. Marsh would never be a problem.

"I'm not right for you," he said in a low voice. He stood, pulling her to her feet.

"Go back to the ballroom and take another look around. Maybe you'll find the perfect

man, a permanent sort of man."

She shook her head and smiled. "I've already found the perfect man."

He'd give her one final chance to escape. If she stayed, she'd seal her own fate. It

would be out of his hands and he could take her with a clear conscience. "Run away,

little elf," he insisted curtly. "Go now, while you still can. You don't want me for your

husband. I'll only hurt you."

"You could never hurt me," she said, lifting her face to his.

"You don't think so?" His hands closed on the narrow bones of her shoulders and

he tugged her into his arms. "Why don't we find out?"

And unable to resist any longer, he took her mouth with his.