Lord Hathaway’s Bride
If he can’t have her love, he’ll have her passion.
A marriage of convenience…
Sarah Mapleton has already had her heart broken once. When she finds herself compelled to marry the intriguing new Viscount Hathaway, she vows to protect her heart at all costs.
He has her hand…
After unexpectedly inheriting his uncle’s title, James Hathaway discovers that the one thing he wants above all else is Sarah. He hopes to win her love, but until that happens, he vows to have her passion.
But can he win her heart?
Sarah is surprised that her new husband can wring unexpected pleasure from her body. But she realizes too late that his kindness has also torn down her emotional barriers. Her determination to protect herself from being hurt again might have pushed James away permanently.
Lord Hathaway’s Bride is book 2 in the Hathaway Heirs series.
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Excerpt:
The morning of James Hathaway’s wedding should have been a happy one. After all, he now had everything a man could desire.
Despite his uncle’s best attempts to sire a son, he had died without an heir. Upon his death, the title of Viscount Hathaway had passed to James, and with it had come a great deal of land and wealth.
He hadn’t expected to inherit, and so he’d never given more than a passing thought to the title and all that would come with it before his uncle’s passing. But the title had gained him the one thing he’d recently discovered he desired beyond all else—his new wife.
Her father, a baronet living near Hathaway Park in Northampton, had paid James a call when he’d taken up residence. Sir Henry Mapleton had made not-so-subtle references to his daughter during that visit, but by that point James had already become accustomed to the seemingly unending parade of mothers and fathers who made no pretense about throwing their unmarried daughters at him. Daughters whom he had no intention of courting.
Then he’d met Sarah Mapleton.
He’d done everything in his power to try to engage her regard, but she’d barely even looked at him whenever their paths crossed—and her father had taken every opportunity to ensure that happened often.
James knew she’d only accepted his suit because her father had pressed her to. He hoped that with time and patience she would come to accept him fully, but as he watched her during the wedding breakfast, it was clear to him that it would not be that day.
The wedding ceremony had been an intimate affair. From his side, there was only his mother and younger sister, his uncle’s widow and the man he knew would be her husband when her official mourning period was over. He wished Edward were there, but having recently been promoted to the rank of captain in the British army, his brother was engaged on the continent.
Sarah’s immediate family was equally small—her parents and a younger brother, George, who’d come down from Eton for the day. But the wedding breakfast was a different matter. They’d opened the house to friends and neighbors in Northampton, which meant that strangers, few of whom he’d even met before that morning, now flooded several rooms on the main floor of the manor.
Sarah sat next to him during the actual meal, but she’d spoken only a few words. In fact, she’d hardly glanced at him, doing so only when he forced her attention by addressing her directly. From her demeanor when he’d begun to court her, he’d originally thought her shy. He’d since witnessed her several times in other company and had come to realize that she was only reserved with him.
Leaning against one wall of the large dining room, he watched her flit from guest to guest, showing them the outgoing side of her personality that she kept hidden from him. Despite her efforts, he saw enough to realize she was acting a part for their guests. His wife certainly looked the picture of a beautiful, happy bride. Her silk dress of white seemed to shimmer as she moved about the room, her blond curls bouncing as if they, too, had been ordered to appear happy and confident. But he couldn’t help noticing that she laughed just a little too loudly, smiled a little too stiffly. He wondered if it was as obvious to everyone else that his new bride would rather be anywhere else than here, celebrating their marriage.
He also didn’t miss the way one young man kept looking at Sarah, trying to find opportunities to speak to her, and how she went out of her way to avoid him. Robert Vaughan. James had made it his mission to learn his identity, and it hadn’t comforted him to discover that many had once thought he and Sarah would make a love match.
His thoughts were diverted by yet another person demanding his attention. Never good with names under even the best of circumstances, James could have told the portly older man that his effort at currying favor while he was surrounded by so many new faces was unlikely to bear fruit.
After ten minutes of tedious conversation about politics and current happenings on the continent that served only to make him worry more about his brother, James made some vague excuse about being needed elsewhere and went in search of his wife, who had disappeared. Leaving the dining room, he made his way through the other open rooms on the main floor.
He found Sarah in the drawing room, seated on the settee next to a young woman he didn’t know. His wife’s posture was stiff, her brows drawn together in a slight frown. Feeling the need to rescue her, he crossed to where they sat on the far side of the room. He was almost upon the pair when the other woman’s whispered words reached his ears.
“…can’t believe you were actually forced to marry someone so common. He may have inherited the title, but there can be no mistaking that he doesn’t come from the same noble stock as the old viscount. How can you stand it?”
He froze in place, waiting to hear his wife defend him. But instead she looked down at her hands, which were clasped tightly in her lap, and shrugged. Disappointment surged within him.
The other woman looked up then and made a strangled noise of dismay. James didn’t even glance at her, all his attention focused instead on Sarah. His wife looked up at that moment to see what had alarmed her companion. Their gazes met and clashed.
“It was so nice to have a few minutes to talk to you,” the woman said, stumbling over her words and rising with unseemly haste. He didn’t look at her as she fled from the room.
Sarah tore her gaze from his and rose as well. He supposed he should have been angry, but given how tense things were between the two of them, he wasn’t surprised. He couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t make the situation worse, and since the room had become more crowded since he’d entered—were people actually following him?—he murmured something about wanting to introduce her to his mother and sister. She nodded, managing a small, tense smile for the benefit of those who were unabashedly watching them, and took his arm.
©2018 Suzanna Medeiros