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stared him down, their noses nearly touching.
"And furthermore . . ." she said, raising a finger.
"Don't even think about poking me with that pointy little finger of yours," he growled. "I'll not be poked
twice in the same day."
She looked at her hovering finger, poised to strike, then looked back at him.
"I'll poke you whenever I darn well feel like it."
She hesitated only a moment. His hand whipped up to encircle her wrist before she could move more
than a fraction of an inch toward her target. Her other hand came up. He grasped that wrist as well.
She glared at him, her moss-colored eyes sparking with green fire.
"Let go of my hands," she demanded, her voice calm, civil, threatening.
"Make me," he challenged with equal civility.
A wisp of silky mahogany caressed her cheek and curled down her neck. His fingers itched to push the
tendril away, and the all-too-familiar urge swung from wanting to choke her to wanting to kiss her.
Her mouth twitched once as they locked stares, but she narrowed her eyes and readjusted her glare.
He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. When the second twitch came, he bit harder.
Amusement, sudden, unexpected, replaced the anger in her eyes, then heated to something more than
amusement. More than a truce.
The look seared Alec to the depths of his being. His gaze dropped to lips no longer set in a firm, defiant
line. While he stared, those lips parted slightly and her sweet, ragged breath warmed his cheek. He moved
closer, his head tilting to one side. She raised her face to his and her eyes drifted closed.
"Well, then."
They jerked apart so violently, had there been another boulder behind his head, he surely would have
suffered a concussion. How in the name of heaven had she made him so completely forget Sheffield's
presence?
Lawrence clapped his hands together and avoided looking at them. Instead, he sank into a chair and
gave them time to find their own seats and collect themselves.
"This is a ticklish situation, Alec," he finally said before the silence could grow even more embarrassing.
"The annulment was to be granted because the marriage had not been consummated. But there seems to
be a witness who insists she saw you together in a compromising position, then removed stained sheets
from the bed the next morning." He leaned back, and the chair groaned as if in agony. "Under those
circumstances, it might be difficult to convince the court that a consummation did not take place. And
seeing the two of you together . . ."
"Bloody hell, Sheffield! Nothing happened!"
"It would not be the first time a couple unintentionally "
"Mr. Sheffield, are you questioning our integrity?" Shaelyn finally spoke.
"Not at all, my dear. But when this comes before the court, we can do no less than answer truthfully."
"Well, I assure you, if we say the marriage wasn't consummated, we will be answering truthfully."
Lawrence nodded. Alec daydreamed about inflicting medieval tortures upon Ned's wife.
"Be that as it may, I fear the hope for a swift annulment has died. My suggestion is that I submit a
petition for divorce "
"Divorce!" Alec jumped up and slammed his hand on the desk. "Absolutely not!"
"Alec, there are questions surrounding the validity for an annulment. I've no doubt your entire staff has
heard the allegations by now. Even if they have not, there are Margaret, the laundress, and Ned's wife who
know. The burden of proof now lies with you. Now, if Mrs. Hawthorne would be willing to submit to an
examination . . ."
His words trailed off. Understanding slowly dawned in Shaelyn's eyes and her brows shot skyward.
She leveled a glare at both men in turn.
"Not a snowball's chance in .. . Hades."
"It would simplify matters, Mrs. Hawthorne. We have several qualified physicians "
Shaelyn rose from her chair, her face stoic, her spine stiff.
"No examination. No way. You can go for the divorce or pursue the annulment, but either way, when
this ring comes off, I'm outta here."
"But you cannot "
"I can, and I will. End of conversation." She walked toward the door, her spine stiff.
"Shaelyn!" Alec called.
She ignored him as if she were deaf, but before stepping into the hall and out of sight, she turned and
cast one miserably sad glance at him.
He looked at Sheffield, searching for something to say.
The attorney stared at the empty doorway, a half-smile amazingly curving his lips.
"Reminds me of my Lori." He turned back to Alec. "God help you, son."
Chapter
8
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