Flattening her palms against his chest, she shoved harder.
With a curse, he rolled away. She scrambled onto her knees, ready to flee the bed if he made any move toward her. But he didn’t. He lay there, his breathing harsh, his arm thrown over his eyes. His whole aspect was one of pain.
The frantic racing of her heart slowed. Uncertainty trickled through her. She touched his arm tentatively. “Garek?”
He stiffened under her touch. He lowered his arm and looked at her, his eyes cold and hard. “Next time you plan to trap a man into marriage,” he said, his voice like shards of glass, “make sure you have the guts to go through with it.”
Ellie’s hand fell to her side. “What are you talking about?”
He stood up and gestured toward the door and where her cousin had positioned himself outside. “The shotgun wedding. The reluctant bride. I thought I’d seen every trick in the book when it came to women trying to ensnare me, but this one, I admit, was brilliant.” He looked down at her, his gaze traveling from her face to her chest. “You’re one hot little witch when you want to be.”
Realizing her blouse was hanging open, she flushed and pulled the edges together. Then she paled. “Surely you don’t think I planned this. You’re the one that barged in here—”
“Yeah, after you left that message that ensured that I would—I was actually feeling guilty for having used you—for misjudging you. But I got it right the first time, didn’t I? You’re a greedy, manipulative little gold digger, out to make a quick buck.”
“I don’t care about your money—”
“It’s a little late for the innocent act. You set me up. You don’t really expect me to believe that your witless cousin came up with this marriage idea on his own? Or that the presence of Caspar, the friendly minister, was merely a coincidence? Oh, and let’s not forget the icing on the wedding cake—you, the pregnant bride. Tell me something—are you really pregnant? Did some guy knock you up and you decided to pass the baby off as mine? Or was the whole thing a story you invented to get your cousin and his friend to go along with your plan?”
Her face felt frozen. “You…you conceited ass. This whole mess is your fault. None of this would have happened if you hadn’t decided to play such a nasty trick on your sister. Even if I were pregnant, I would never marry you. I wouldn’t marry you for all the sculptures in the Metropolitan. I wouldn’t marry you for all the paintings in the Louvre. I wouldn’t marry you—”
“I get the idea. If you don’t mind, I’m going to get some sleep. I have to work tomorrow.”
She hated the indifference of his tone. She hated even more that she couldn’t match it—her voice sounded slightly shrill as she asked, “But where are you going to sleep?”
“In the bed, of course.” He picked up the pillow and punched it.
“This is my bed.”
“I’m willing to share. Your virtue is safe with me.”
She glared at him. “You can sleep on the floor.”
“I’m not that chivalrous. You sleep on the floor.”
She watched with fury and dismay as he turned back the hand-stitched quilt Aunt Alma had made and sat down to shuck off his shoes. The jerk. The cad. The—
His hands went to the buckle of his belt.
Her cheeks burning again, she practically leaped off the bed and stood with her back to him. A few seconds later she heard the rustle of sheets and the click of the light. The room went dark.
Ellie hesitated, trying to decide what to do. She was not going to share a bed with him. But the only other option was the bare wooden planks of the floor.
She considered marching out into the living room and taking the couch. She knew Robbie wouldn’t stop her. The only problem was, he would probably come in and shoot Garek. Oh, she didn’t think he would kill him—at least not intentionally. But it would be just like Robbie to accidentally shoot Garek in the foot or the hand. Or the rear…
She glanced at the black silhouette in her bed. For a second, she was tempted to go to the couch and leave Garek to his fate.
She sighed. She couldn’t do that. No matter how much she hated Garek, she couldn’t allow Robbie to shoot him.
An hour later, though, turning on the hard floor, she wasn’t so sure. She was so cold, her bones ached with it. She couldn’t stop shivering. She pulled her knees up to her chest, trying to conserve her body heat. She didn’t remember ever being this cold. The clunky furnace must have conked out again. She would probably freeze by morning…
Warm arms suddenly encircled and lifted her. Shegave a little squeak, all she was capable of at the moment since she was shivering so badly. “Wh-what are you doing?”
“The chattering of your teeth is keeping me awake,” he growled.
“W-well, isn’t that just too bad?” She yelped as he dropped her and she hit the mattress. “I would rather freeze to death than share a bed with you,” she informed him haughtily.
“If you insist. At least you’ll save me the cost of a lawyer to dissolve this marriage. Just do it quietly.”