She suddenly wanted to kick him. In her mind, the conclusions had narrowed considerably. Yet if he was planning a liaison, why was he telling her about it?
She told herself not to overreact. She shouldn't care who he was seeing or why. She did care though. Immensely. She was suddenly bloody furious with the insensitive brute.
She looked thunderstruck to him. He couldn't imagine what had come over her. One minute she was smiling and the next she was glaring.
He was her target, and so he naturally assumed he'd done something to displease her. She'd been perfectly happy when he first mentioned the meeting, and so he concluded going out wasn't what had her pricked now.
"Is something wrong?"
"No."
The hell it wasn't. He waited another minute or two for her to say something more and when she remained silent, he gave up trying to speculate on the cause of her irritation.
"You're going to be late meeting the woman."
"Her name's Belle."
"Belle." She repeated the name in a whisper. She couldn't think of anything else to add. Her heart felt as though it had just been broken. She was feeling crushed and pitiful. She wanted to weep, and it took all her strength to hide her feelings from him.
She told herself she shouldn't have been surprised. Men strayed. She had first-hand knowledge of that hard truth. Her very own fiance had certainly strayed. While pledging his undying love to her, he was sleeping with her cousin, Jane. Madam had instructed her that it was perfectly all right to love a man as long as she didn't let the love consume her, and as for trust, well, if she really must, then she should spend a considerable number of years weighing all the ramifications before she gave anyone her complete loyalty.
Madam, had also warned her about men's peculiar urges. She'd told Taylor they all had uncontrollable cravings. Uncle Andrew happened in on the conversation and took immediate issue with her point of view. He declared it was warped. He insisted that the majority of men didn't have any trouble at all controlling their lust. It was only a base few who let their animal instincts take control of their actions. A heated argument developed. Madam held firm to her belief that men were ruled by their groins and not their minds, and Uncle Andrew took the opposite view. He told his sister she was thinking like a dried-up old prune, and it was all her own fault because she'd never bothered to remarry after her first husband died.
There was only one point both her relatives would agree upon, and that was the fact that all men sowed wild oats. Unfortunately neither her grandmother nor her uncle would go into detail. Taylor was left to guess what in heaven's name oats had to do with sex.
The majority of men and their behavior didn't concern Taylor now. Lucas's behavior was another matter altogether. They were on their honeymoon, after all, and she thought it was damned rude of him to seek out the company of another woman. Taylor didn't particularly care that their marriage was supposed to be in name only. Mr. Ross shouldn't be meeting other women while he was still legally married to her.
Pride kept her from giving him a piece of her mind.
"Taylor, you need to get some rest. You look exhausted. I'll see you in the morning."
She let out a gasp. "You're staying out all night?"
"No, but you'll be asleep by the time I get back."
"You're going to be that late?"
He shrugged. No telling with Belle, he thought. His mother's old friend liked to talk. And drink, he remembered. Lord, could she drink. The last time they'd gotten together, she drank him under the table. She was proud of the fact that she could outdrink any man, any time. It wasn't an empty boast. Lucas still vividly recalled the godawful hangover he'd suffered through after their last meeting. History wasn't going to repeat itself tonight, however. Lucas had already decided one drink of brandy was going to be his limit.
"Good night, Taylor," he said before he turned to leave.
"Have a good time," she called out.
"I will," he replied.
She didn't want to kick him any longer. That would have been too kind. She wanted to kill him now.
He had almost reached the door when she jumped off the bed and went chasing after him. She said the first thing that popped into her mind. "Aren't you too tired to go out?"
"No," he replied over his shoulder. "Lock the door after me. I've got a key."
He reached for the doorknob. She rushed ahead and wedged herself between the door and her husband, effectively blocking his exit.
"Exactly how long will you be gone?"
"Awhile."
"Oh."
"Oh, what?"
She shrugged. He let her see his exasperation. "What in thunder's wrong with you?" he asked, his bewilderment apparent in both his expression and his tone of voice.
"Nothing," she lied. "Go ahead then. Have a nice evening."
"You'll have to get out of my way first."
She started to do just that, then changed her mind. She'd taken two steps to the side so Lucas could leave, but just as he was reaching for the doorknob again, she rushed back. She threw herself up against the door and splayed her arms wide. She knew she was being dramatic. She couldn't help it.
He was looking at her as though he thought she'd lost her mind. She thought she probably had. She certainly wasn't making any sense. She didn't care. The possibility that her husband might be intimate with another woman made her too ill to think about being sensible.
"Answer one question before you leave."
"What is it?"
"Will you be sowing any oats tonight?"
"What?" He sounded incredulous.
"Wild oats," she explained, being a little more specific. "Will you be sowing any tonight?"
He couldn't believe what she'd just asked him. And then the truth dawned. Taylor was jealous. Lucas was too surprised to say anything. He took a step back and simply stared at her.
She saw the astonishment in his eyes and immediately started blushing like a schoolgirl. His reaction told her he hadn't considered the possibility, and oh,
God, hadn't she just planted the obscene notion in his head?
She let out a loud sigh. She'd gone this far into the murky waters. She might as well go the rest of the distance, or, as Madam was apt to say, finish what she had begun.
"Mr. Ross," she began.
"Are you jealous?" he asked at the very same time.
"No, of course not."
"Could have fooled me," he replied. He did smile then, he couldn't help it.
Her shoulders straightened. Her temper flared. He was, after all, laughing at her.
"Taylor, I'll be happy to explain about Belle."
"I could care less about the woman," she replied. "I don't give a hoot what you do with your time, sir."
It wasn't what she said but how she said it that got him riled up. God, she was stubborn. He decided to let her stew in her own imagination. Come morning, he'd set her straight, but only if she wasn't still sounding like a surly shrew.
"Are you going to get out of my way?"
"Yes."
She didn't move. Lucas decided he was going to have to pick her up, carry her back to the bed, then toss her there with the order to stay put. He reached for her but stopped when she pushed his hands away.
"Marriage is like pregnancy," she announced.
He leaned back. She'd certainly gotten his full attention with that comment. He decided then and there he was never going to be surprised by anything she said to him in the future. Damned if she wasn't the most illogical woman he'd ever encountered. He wanted to laugh but didn't dare. He'd already noticed how sensitive her feelings were. God, she was young.
And inexperienced. And sweet and beautiful and all the things any man in his right mind would want to grab onto and hold close for the rest of his life.
"How is marriage like pregnancy?" he heard himself ask.