The Perfect Stranger by Anne Gracíe

one man—and I thought I knew him”
    “I am a man of my word and was an officer in Wellington’s army. You may trust me. By all means take some time to think. A moment’s reflection will convince you.”
    “Oh, will it?” His calm masculine assumption of rightness exacerbated her already tense nerves. “Then I’d better go off and reflect, hadn’t I?” Faith lifted her skirts and marched into the water, enjoying the cool water against her skin, knowing he could not follow because of his boots.
    He waited on the shore, picking up stones and skimming them across the glassy surface of the sea, as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
    “You may trust me.”
    Trust me? The last man who’d said that had also been trying to coax her into marriage. Not that Nicholas Blacklock was exactly coaxing. The way he’d put it was more like an order. But whether a blunt, unemotional order or a wildly romantic proposal, the effect was the same; she must trust herself and her future to a man.
    Never again, she’d sworn. Never again put herself in the power of a man. She’d escaped Grandpapa’s harsh rule, only to hurl herself into Felix’s web of lies and humiliation. Both of them had left her scarred. She would be mad to trust herself to another man, particularly one she didn’t know.
    A small voice reminded her that she hadn’t done too well with men she’d known. What was the difference in trusting a stranger?
    She couldn’t afford to put her fate in a man’s hands. Any man’s. And especially this—this stranger!
    But could she afford not to? She’d made such a mess of her life. Could he truly make it worse?
    Yes. He could. There were worse things than those she’d experienced. Those men last night, for instance.
    “It would be a white marriage, naturally.” If he truly meant it, a white marriage with his name as a gift, what would he get out of it? He had to get something. No man would offer what he offered without some reward.
    She turned back to him. “You know nothing about me. I could be a…a criminal, for all you know.”
    He snorted. “Nonsense!”
    She splashed back toward him. “I might be! You cannot tell I am not!”
    “Believe me, I can tell.” Nick kept his expression bland. She sounded almost put out at his refusal to consider her a criminal. “As for myself and what I get out of marrying you, well, for one thing, it will please my mother.”
    “Your mother?” She sounded just as put out by that.
    “Yes. For the last few months she has flung eligible young ladies at my head in the hope that one of them might interest me.”
    “Why didn’t they?”
    Why didn’t they? He thought of the young ladies his mother had brought home for him. He couldn’t imagine any of them looking such a gift horse so suspiciously in the mouth. They’d have jumped at his offer, no matter what. It was only he who knew the gift horse was no gift at all.
    “That bad, was it?” Her soft voice interrupted his thoughts.
    He grimaced. “The process was unfortunate. And so my mother did not get the daughter-in-law she wanted so badly.”
    “Did she have a particular girl in mind?”
    “No, anyone would do—as long as I was married.” He picked up a handful of sand and trailed it though his fist onto his boots, listening to the soft hiss it made. “I should add that since my older brother Henry died of a fever three years ago, I am the last of my line. It is not so much a bride my mother wants—it is a grandchild. A grandson.”
    “Oh!”
    He realized at once what she was thinking. “It was not, however, an heir for Blacklock Manor that I was thinking of when I proposed to you. I care nothing for that. That was my brother Henry’s job, and if he did not secure the succession before he died…” He shrugged. “I simply thought that since you were in need of a husband and my mother was desperate for me to wed, I could kill two birds with one stone. I should add, I have been something of a disappointment to