Merely Married - Softcover

They were the perfect husband and wife--until they fell in love.

"Trust Patricia Coughlin to deliver fresh and innovative romance for discerning fans."
--Romantic Times

Also by Patricia Coughlin:

Lord Savage
Chosen by Publishers Weekly as a Best Book of 1996:

"The interplay between the wildly engaging marquis and the unflappable Ariel is hilarious, the love scenes are freshly imagined and the emotional development deeply felt."
--Publishers Weekly (starred review)

"Lord Savage is probably one of the best-written romances this reviewer has been privileged to read. It is a standout in this--or any--genre."
--Romance Forever

Adrian was still savoring the praise being heaped on him by his guests  when the crusty manservant who managed his household appeared by his  side.

"What is it, Thorne?" he asked.

Thorne bent to whisper close to his ear. "A problem, sir. You  ought--"

"You handle it," ordered Adrian, reluctant to have his amusement  interrupted.

"Yes, sir. But you really ought to--"

"Not now, Thorne."

The servant set his jaw and glared at Adrian.

Adrian glared back. He understood that formal entertaining was a rarity  in Raven House and a bloody strain on everyone, but Snake, the former  infantryman who passed for a cook, had turned out an edible meal and a  pair of feckless footmen had managed to relay it to the table with a  minimum of mishaps. The least the old crank could do was pretend to  be proper and heedful.

Instead he continued to glare. "What I am trying to say to you, Y'Grace,  is--"

"Raven? Darling?" a woman's voice called from somewhere outside the  dining room.

Darling?

Adrian registered the gleam of smug satisfaction in Thorne's squinty eyes  just before the same intriguing female voice spoke again, this time from  just inside the dining room.

"There you are." The woman threw open her arms and smiled at him as if  they were alone. "Surprise, darling, I'm home."

Adrian gaped at her, frozen in his seat even as the other gentlemen at  the table leapt to their feet. It was she. Leah. His wife.

Oh sweet Lord.

What was she doing standing in his dining room?

Hell, what was she doing standing anywhere?

She was supposed to be . . . well, dead.

He placed his palms flat on the table and pushed himself upright on  leaden legs, only distantly aware of the expectant hush all around  him.

This woman was most definitely not dead.

She was breathtakingly alive. With hair the color of blazing chestnuts  and eyes like fields of clover. My God, his wife was a beauty.

His wife.

Oh sweet Lord, what the bloody hell was he going to do now?

He squared his shoulders, his usually quick wits slowed by shock.  Instinct made him certain of only two things. First, if Leah Stretton was  standing there calling him "darling" and apparently presenting herself as  his wife, he'd damn well better start acting like a husband in a hurry.  And second, when he got his hands on Will Grantley, England was going to  be minus one inept, disloyal botchbag of a rector.

"Leah. My sweet," he said, forcing his facial muscles to form a smile.  "You have taken me totally by surprise."

"Good." She captured his gaze and held it. "That was my intent."

The look she gave him left no doubt that she had meant to ambush him with  her sudden appearance and was enjoying his discomfiture to the hilt.

But why?

Why indeed, he thought, recovering his senses. He should probably count  himself lucky she'd come alone--and unarmed. Belatedly it occurred to him  to wonder if the woman had brothers. Large brothers. Belatedly it occurred  to him to wonder any number of things he should have considered a  fortnight ago.

At the moment however, his first order of business was to wipe the  increasingly speculative looks from the faces of their audience.

Striding across the room, he grasped Leah by her shoulders. "God, how  I've missed you. When you first walked in I thought I must be seeing  things . . . that loneliness had driven me mad and you were but an  apparition. But now . . ." He ran his hands down her arms, then up,  finally sliding them around to her back to draw her closer and press her  stiff body tightly to his. She blinked rapidly, signaling a crack in her  composure.

Good, thought Adrian. Spring herself on him, would she?

"Now that I am convinced you are real, my own flesh-and-blood Leah," he  went on, "I must do what I have been dreaming of doing since I left you in  Devon what seems like years ago."

Their gazes remained locked as he lowered his head. He saw resistance  flash in her eyes and felt it in her tensed muscles, but she didn't flinch  or try to pull away. Had she, his urge to conquer might have been  satisfied and he might have gone easy on her. As it was, he tightened his  grip and opened his mouth, using his tongue to claim her the way any randy  bridegroom would want to, but would doubtless restrain himself from doing  before onlookers.

Adrian seldom restrained himself, and he certainly wasn't about to start  now and give this presumptuous chit the notion that she had the upper  hand. He kissed her hard and long, nearly forgetting that they were not  alone and that it was merely a performance. His blood heated rapidly and  one of his hands moved to rest on the pleasing curve of her hip, as  naturally as if he had every right in the world to put it there.

When he finally remembered himself, he lifted his head slowly, watching  her long, dark lashes flutter and open.

"Westerham," she said, her tone steady and audible enough for everyone in  the room to hear.

Adrian frowned. "What did you say?"

"I said you left me in Westerham, not Devon. Have you forgotten  already?"

Westerham. Saint Anne's. The rectory. Of course. Devon was where her  fictional sister lived. But she had no way of knowing that, or the  countless other details about her life that he had fabricated that  evening. That could be a problem.

Could be a problem? He nearly laughed out loud at his own  absurdity. This entire affair was turning into a debacle right before his  eyes.

"No, no, of course I haven't forgotten," he assured her gently. "Though  when you are close to me, it is a wonder I can even remember to  breathe."

"Don't worry, darling. If necessary, I'll prompt you. I happen to be a  most accomplished breather."

"Yes, I can see that," he murmured, aware of the impudent glint in her  eyes as she gazed up at him with seeming adoration. He released her and  turned to his guests. "Please forgive my lapse in manners. I totally  forgot myself for a moment."

Sir Arthur raised his hand. "Perfectly understandable under the  circumstances, Raven. Think nothing of it."

"Yes, allowances must be made for newlyweds," his wife chimed in, her  eyes as bright as those of a hound circling a meaty bone. "Especially when  they have been separated for so long. But now, Raven, I insist you make us  acquainted with this surprise addition to our party."

"Of course." He handled the introductions as succinctly as possible. Try  as his overtaxed brain did, it could not come up with any way to avoid  using the words my wife in presenting her. Though the phrases  long-lost sister and recently acquired ward did flit through  his mind.

The damage was done now. The best he could hope for was to limit the  repercussions as much as possible. To that end he proceeded to push the  chairs nearest him back to the table before any of his guests could  resettle themselves.

"I know you'll understand if I beg to end the evening prematurely," he  said when they persisted in lingering, inquiring about Leah's health and  her journey to town, precisely the things he intended to inquire about the  instant he had her alone. "I fear if sh . . . Le . . . my wife   overtaxes herself she will suffer a relapse."

His wife slipped her arm through his. "Your concern is touching,  darling, but altogether unnecessary. The doctor assures me that kidney  stones rarely afflict women my age and a recurrence is unlikely."

Stones? thought Adrian.

"Stones?" exclaimed Lady Hockliffe. "Is that what ailed you? Why you poor  dear, that is a horror." She swiped at Raven with her closed fan. "You  beastly man. If I were your bride I should never forgive you for  abandoning me in my hour of need."

"I shall spend the rest of my life making amends," vowed Adrian, kissing  the back of Leah's hand before tucking it inside his arm once more.  Gently. There would be time later to squeeze the truth out of her.