Free Trapped at the Altar by Jane Feather Page A

that,” she muttered lamely.
    â€œYou mean he did not release his seed inside you,” Ivor said brutally. “Is that what you’re trying to say, Ari?”
    She nodded and said with difficulty, “He was very careful.”
    â€œMaybe so, but accidents happen anyway, and I’m taking no risks.” He went downstairs without another word, returning after a few minutes with the brandy bottle and a knife. He refilled both their glasses before saying, “Your uncles will wish to see proof of the consummation in the morning.”
    Ari looked at the knife. She needed no further explanation, merely asked quietly, “Where will it be best to cut me?”
    â€œNot you,” he said with a touch of impatience. “Me.” He dropped the knife on the bed beside her. “You will cut my inner arm, here, just inside the elbow. It will produce sufficient blood without having to cut too deeply, and the wound can be easily hidden.”
    Ari wished she were inhabiting an unpleasant dream, but hard-edged reality was a living force in the chamber. She reached beneath the pillow behind her and drew out her own intricately carved silver knife. “If I must do this, I will use my own knife.”
    â€œYou carried your knife to your own wedding?” For once, Ariadne had surprised him. Ivor shook his head in amazement. “Where did you conceal it?”
    â€œA sheath in my petticoat. Tilly sews them into allmy underclothes,” she informed him, running her finger along the blade. “We will need a scarf or a handkerchief to act as a tourniquet, in case I make a mistake and cut the vein too deeply.”
    â€œI trust you won’t do that,” he commented wryly, opening a drawer in the dresser and bringing out a thick red kerchief.
    Ariadne looked at him, looked at the red kerchief and the knife in her hand, and felt a sudden insane urge to laugh. Her lower lip quivered, and Ivor said sharply, “Something about this wretched business amuses you?”
    â€œIt’s a farce, Ivor. One is supposed to laugh at farces,” she responded. “Why should we take any aspect of this travesty seriously?”
    â€œBecause in essence, our lives lie in the balance,” he responded, rolling up his ruffled sleeve. “Or yours does,” he added. “If I exposed you as a whore, dear girl, your uncles would kill you on the spot to avenge family honor, and then they would hunt down your Gabriel and send him to a lingering death. I doubt you want that.” He extended his arm. “Now, get on with it.”
    She bit her lip. “I didn’t mean to make light of what you’re doing for me, Ivor. But you must see a little of the absurdity.”
    â€œYou’ll have to forgive my lack of humor, but at the moment, I don’t,” he responded curtly. “Right now, I am holding out my vein for you to cut so that we can produce a bloodstained sheet that will satisfy your uncles that family honor has been preserved. Now, will you please get on with it?”
    Ariadne nodded. He was right. There was no ghoulish humor to be milked from this situation. With a sinuous movement, she slid from the bed, wrapping her nakedness in the coverlet as she did so. She knotted the coverlet between her breasts and picked up the knife from the bed. “Tilly told me that one of the village women will never cut flesh without putting the knife through a candle flame.” She took the weapon to the candles on the sill and passed the blade through the flames several times. “It can do no harm, even if it does no good.”
    She came back to the bed where Ivor stood. “Perhaps you should hold your arm over the sheet so that the blood falls where it should.” She gestured to a spot on the immaculate sheet. She was totally in possession of herself, even though she felt as if she were moving through a dream world. This had to be done, and she would do it