‘It’s only for tonight. You won’t be on your own tomorrow.’
‘No?’
Holding her gaze, Seth went still. ‘We’re getting married... Tomorrow night we’ll be husband and wife.’
At the realisation that she would be losing her virginity sooner than she’d thought, Imogen couldn’t seem to find the wherewithal to reply. Once again a powerful sense of unreality washed over her.
‘You mean that we’re going to be married here?’ she asked, the words catching in her throat.
Lifting a gently mocking eyebrow, Seth nodded. ‘This is Gretna Green. It’s what the place is famous for.’
‘I didn’t realise... I think—I think I need to sit down.’ Dazed, she moved across the room to an armchair.
Her companion followed her. ‘It’s all been arranged, Imogen. This is the surprise I promised you. I’ve even arranged the dress that you’ll be wearing. You said you like vintage, so that’s the style I’ve chosen for you. The designer will be joining us later, so that you can try it on and she can make any last-minute adjustments.’
‘What about the witnesses we’ll need for the ceremony? Have you organised them, too?’
‘Yes. The hotel’s manager and our female concierge Nina have agreed to help us out. Do you mind that you won’t have any personal friends or family present? Only I had to organise things quickly...’
Breathing out a sigh, Imogen undid her parka and took it off. Then she dropped down into the wing-backed armchair behind her. Exceptionally comfortable, it made the one she had at home seem particularly old and worn. ‘I don’t mind. It’s probably best that they won’t be here.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘I suppose I don’t want to face their judgement or disapproval—particularly my mum’s. Like I said, she’s had so much disappointment in her life. And I seem to have acquired a reputation for not exactly making the best decisions. She wouldn’t fail to remind me of that.’
‘Then, I’m glad your people won’t be joining us.’
Frowning, Seth followed her example and undid his jacket. He deposited the expensive-looking garment onto the lavishly covered bed.
‘What about you? Don’t you have any friends or family who might be interested in the fact that you’re getting married?’
His jaw visibly clenched. ‘No. I don’t.’
Imogen couldn’t help but challenge his answer. ‘Would they be interested if this marriage was for real?’
Flinching as though struck, he rubbed a hand round his jaw. ‘By that I take it you mean if we were in love?’
There was no mockery in his tone, but she couldn’t fail to hear the note of derision at the concept that was there, and her throat cramped painfully. It hurt to remember that their proposed union was certainly no love match but merely one of convenience. She should never forget that.
‘Anyway...’ Forcing a smile to save him from stating the obvious and convince him that she wasn’t disturbed that their marriage wouldn’t be for real, she asked, ‘What time will the designer bring my dress?’
‘She’ll be here soon—in about an hour.’
‘One more question. Where exactly will the ceremony take place?’
A flash of pleasure lit the compelling blue irises as he told her, ‘It’s going to be conducted in the ancient Chief’s Room situated in a five-hundred-year-old Peel Tower. I’m told that the stone walls are decorated with portraits of previous lairds, like Robert the Bruce. There’s also a valuable and historic Persian rug covering the flagstone floor.’
It sounded beautiful and romantic—just the kind of atmospheric venue where a woman in love might enjoy being married, Imogen thought with a pang. ‘I get the feeling that you love history?’
‘I do. I’ve loved it since I was a boy. In another life I might have studied it. Anyway, I’d like to take a shower now—how about you?’
‘I—I...’ Her head throbbed in alarm.
‘Not together.’ Good humour returned, Seth grinned. ‘At least not yet. Do you want to take one first?’
Garnering all her courage, she squarely met his gaze. ‘You can go first. I think I’ll start my unpacking.’
His contemplative glance lingered a little too long for it to be remotely comfortable. Was he perhaps regretting his decision to ask her to marry him?
As if suddenly realising that he was staring, he declared, ‘Okay. I won’t be long.’ Turning, he disappeared through one of the maple-wood doors to the luxurious bathroom and shower the concierge had shown them.