Free Untamed by Jessica L. Jackson

just like your mother.”
     
    “Thank you, sir. My uncle often stated as much.” Desarae gestured toward the chairs and settee. Her heart fluttered with the fear the sight of her relative engendered in her. “Please, will you not be seated?”
    She walked passed Trystan to a chair beside the cold fireplace. “Close your mouth,” she mocked softly. His mouth clamped shut. After she sat down and arranged her skirts becomingly and introductions had been made, Desarae turned to the Earl.
    “Grandfather, kindly explain the reason why Reverend MacLeod is here. It is not that I am sorry to see him for I have not spoken with a minister in years.” She paused and nodded regally to the skinny vicar, “We do not yet have a permanent church in Canso of any denomination. However, I am most curious. No one has died, surely?”
    “No. No one has died.” Reverend MacLeod said.
    The Earl seemed nonplussed for a moment but made a quick recover in spite of the forthright manner in which she looked enquiringly at him. She suspected this was not going precisely as planned. No awe at his presence in her home at long last marked her countenance, she made sure of that. Her manner did not shine with gratitude that he had finally come to rescue her from the wilds of Canada, either.
    “My darling Desarae,” he began again and then flushed angrily as her eyebrow rose. “When you were born, your parents entered into a marriage arrangement with Sir Lordling’s parents. I have brought him with me so that you two can fulfil their bargain. Marrying before you return to take your place in society will safeguard you from fortune hunters and adventurers.”
    “I have yet to agree to return to England with you, sir,” Desarae commented coolly.
    Lord Ashburne’s lips pressed tightly together. When he had control of his temper, he continued. “Your estates march along together and this marriage will create a vast estate that will survive and thrive through many generations to come.”
    Desarae looked from her grandfather’s lying, hateful, face to that of Sir Henry. The gentleman did not look ill-favored, however he had no interest in their discussion and was not looking at her but at Trystan, who stood near the spy glass with his arms folded and a closed expression on his handsome features. Once more her uncle’s remarkable journals filled in the gaps of her education.
    “For there to be future generations, sir,” Desarae explained in dulcet tones, calm and reasonable. “There must first be children, do there not? I cannot convince myself that Sir Lordling even likes women in general and he has absolutely no interest in me in particular. I believe he prefers…” She paused infinitesimally. “…Captain Larabette.”
    Through their surprised shouts and titters, Desarae added, leaning forward, “I must confess that I do not blame him. For I prefer Captain Larabette too.”
     
    When Desarae had stood in the doorway, elegant, poised, and utterly beautiful, Trystan’s heart had paused and then had grown incredibly heavy, almost physically weighing him down. The wild and untamed Desarae might fit into his life and his family, but how would this sophisticated woman, displaying in every turn of her head the immeasurable superiority of her station and breeding, belong with them? And then, she uttered those straight-forward, unalterable words, words that he would never allow her to retract. She preferred him. By all that was holy, she preferred him.
    Trystan crossed the room in three steps and lifted her wickedly prim self from the chair. He swung her high into the air and whirled her around, laughing with pure delight. She grinned down and then laughed and laughed.
    “Here! Here, I say!” Lord Ashburne cried harshly, jumping to his feet. “I will not be thrust aside this way. Put my granddaughter down. I do not countenance a match between a merchant sea captain with no connections and no fortune with my granddaughter!”
    Athena trotted