Free Stealing the Bride by Elizabeth Boyle Page B

orders are to see you wedded.
    Perhaps it was here in her company, he realized the enormity of what that meant.
    It had been an easy promise to make in London, but now, as he stood before her, something inside him quaked at the notion of handing Diana over to another man.
    Temple took a step back from her.
    She cocked her head and stared at him. “Temple, why did you come after me?”
    He knew what she wanted to hear—that he’d come after her for all the right reasons. That he’d come after her because he cared. And he knew damn well that if he said that, there would be no turning back.
    So instead he told her, “I didn’t.”
    She only smiled, and then continued circling around the steps.
    “I didn’t, I tell you,” he said, following her like a rapid mummer. When she just shrugged her shoulders as if she knew better, he stepped around her. “Demmit, Diana. This isn’t a game. I didn’t come after you to stop you from being wed.”
    One brow arched delicately and then she went back to her tour around the statue, Billingsworth in hand.
    Temple ran his hand through his hair and let out an exasperated sigh. “Can we just discuss something else?”
    She came up behind him and ducked around him. “Fine. According to Mr. Billingsworth, Eleanor bore Edward eleven children.”
    Relieved for a change of subject, Temple said, “And you would like to have eleven children?” Suddenly he saw the roundabout track of her conversation.
    She grimaced. “I think not.” Her hand reached out to touch the timeworn stone, her fingers trailing over the granite in a wistful brush. “A few would be nice.”
    Her words held a touch of dreamy magic, for suddenly he saw her wish come into being.
    There would be Diana, her shining hair braided and twisted in a glorious crown around her head. And at her feet, happy, laughing children played.
    For a moment, Temple believed that such a world could exist. A place of love and happiness. Of honor and trust. Of family and hearth and home.
    And then he blinked again, and there was nothing before him but an eccentric spinster and her flights of fancy.
    By all that was holy, he needed to stay out of Diana’s dreams.
    They weren’t his.
    He went to reach for his lorgnette, to use it as he did in town, as a prop to distance himself from his heart. But then he remembered, she’d tossed it out the window.
    So he resorted to the sly wit that made him so popular. “I imagine your Billingsworth forgot to add that Edward was a rather practical bastard. He used Eleanor’s dowry to pay for these crosses.” Temple regretted the words the moment he said them. Gads, he sounded as cynical and delighted as his grandfather would be to burst her romantic bubble.
    Diana cast him an annoyed glance, then let out an exasperated sigh. “What a surprise! I should have known that you would find the crass version of such a romantic story.”
    He shifted from one foot to the other. “I didn’t mean—”
    “No, don’t say another word.” She held up her hand to stave off his feeble excuses. “You just proved my theory that men can’t bare their hearts with any measure of honesty.”
    Temple thought that was interesting. Here was a lady running off with the ton ’s most disreputable bounder and she wanted honesty? “Ah, my lady, you wound me to the quick. To my very heart.”
    She glanced at him, a sly, quick movement that caught him unaware. “But Temple, the last time we were alone, you swore quite vehemently that you no longer possessed one.”
    His gaze met hers. “You remember that?”
    She glanced away and began to circle the monument anew. “Yes, Temple. How could I forget the day you broke my heart?”
    He groaned. She would have to bring that up.
    When he caught up with her, trailing behind her as she went around the statue again, her gaze remained fixed on the woman above her, as if she were trying to learn some lesson from the serene face gazing down at her.
    “According to Mr.