Free Forbidden Fire by Heather Graham Page B

help us both.”
    And then, with no explanation, he was gone.

Chapter Four
    â€œY ou did what!” Mary gasped with horror.
    Marissa, hearing the tone of Mary’s voice at her casual announcement that she had gone ahead and married Ian Tremayne, grimaced. She was in the parlor of their suite, trying very hard to be calm and casual while her heart beat a rampant pulse of uncertainty.
    Ian Tremayne hadn’t returned. He would have to do so eventually, Marissa was certain, because he had left all his things. But she had paced his room for half an hour, trying not to look at those things that seemed to be so personal to the man, growing more and more restless. The room made her uneasy. The desk was filled with business papers, with letters, some addressed in smooth, flowing scripts that could only be feminine. There was his bed. And there was his shaving equipment, a fine ivory brush and cup, his razor and strop.
    She couldn’t wait any longer. She didn’t know if he had expected her to wait, he had slammed out so quickly. She had left the boardinghouse, hailed a hansom and returned to Mary’s suites.
    There she found Mary awake and pacing the floor, worried about her.
    â€œI married him,” Marissa repeated, sinking down on one of the stiff needlepoint chairs that faced the settee over a heavy Persian rug. “We married him, I guess. I don’t know. I used my own name. I signed my own signature. I think that makes it legal. The marriage, at least.”
    â€œOh, Marissa!”
    Mary hurried to her side and hugged her tightly. “What made you do such a thing? You shouldn’t have. We would have survived somehow.”
    â€œMary, nothing is really any different.”
    â€œNothing is different!” Mary exclaimed. “Oh, Marissa! Don’t you know what married people do?”
    Marissa cast her a quick, narrowing glance. “Of course I know what married people do!” she said indignantly. Honestly, Mary could be terribly annoying. “But it’s not going to be that kind of marriage.”
    Mary sniffed. “Any marriage is that kind of marriage. Oh, of course, he is very good looking.”
    â€œHow do you know?”
    â€œI was peeking out the bedroom door last night. He’s handsome. Very attractive, really.”
    â€œHe had you in fits last night.”
    â€œOh, but that’s because I couldn’t begin to deal with such a man. He’s such a tremendous presence, demanding. But I think he could be charming.”
    â€œCharming. That’s the word,” Marissa said sweetly.
    Mary stared at her, hurt. “I only meant—”
    â€œHe is charming, Mary. Completely,” Marissa lied. And he could be charming. When he wasn’t snapping and snarling. “Mary, it’s an arrangement, nothing more. If you were peeking last night, you must have been listening too. He was married before. He didn’t want to be married again. So I’m really just going to be a guest in the house, and then, because he’s already married, no one will bother him to get married. Understand?”
    â€œYou made him understand this?” Mary said, confused.
    â€œYes. Mary, it’s going to be all right.”
    â€œNo, it’s not! And I can’t believe that you went off and married him without a word! Marissa, you didn’t give yourself time to think! Maybe we could have come up with something else—”
    â€œWith what, Mary?” Marissa asked wearily.
    â€œI don’t know. Something.”
    â€œMary, I didn’t think he’d really do it. I had all these wonderful plans and arguments. Then I assumed that if I did get him to agree, we’d make plans for later. The next thing I knew, a registrar was in the room, and we were married.”
    â€œOh, Marissa!”
    Mary hugged her tightly, then released her. She stared at her with such mournful, miserable eyes that Marissa patted her hand and rose,