Page 49 of The Duke's Scottish Bride
Oh, I like seein’ him squirm.
“Do not be ridiculous, Marion.”
Marion grinned as he walked out of the room, not pressing the matter further.
But Marion noticed that he’d taken Verity’s book with him.
She sat down on the warm chair and the residual heat of his body spread through her own. Her eyes twinkled at the thought of him reading his sister’s work, let alone something with such insight into the human heart, and the ways of love.
Perhaps there will be some hope for us yet…
Chapter Nineteen
“Ready for this one?” Verity whispered as she poked her head into Marion’s bedroom door and waved a manuscript in the air.
“I have finished my next novella! This one is a tale of forbidden love. I cannot wait another minute. We must get this to the printing press immediately. There is no time to waste!”
Marion sighed. Apprehension and amusement at her friend’s intrusion mingled within her.
It was another moonless night. She planned to spend it curled up in bed, waiting to see if there would be a soft tap at the adjoining door to Anselm’s quarters.
Instead, Verity stepped in, breaking her from her thoughts, and donning a dark cloak pulled tightly around her shoulders.
Much as Marion worried about their late-night outings, she was happy for her friend and all she had achieved as an authoress. The whole manner of it was most exciting and provided a welcome distraction from her own love life. Or lack thereof.
“Forbidden love? I’m eager to read it! Very well, we shall go. Aye, but we must be swift!”
They navigated the quiet streets of London with relative ease. The city’s usual commotion was dimmed by the late hour. The printing press was only a few blocks away from their townhouse and its windows glowed faintly as they neared.
Verity skipped over to the sleepy night foreman, whom Marion recognized from the last time, and handed over the rolled manuscript.
Marion’s ears perked up when she caught a faint shuffling from the alleyway behind them. Her head snapped at the sound, putting her senses on high alert as her hair stood on end.
“Did ye hear that noise?” she whispered. She walked right up to Verity and wrapped a hand instinctively and protectively around her arm. “It was too loud to be a rat or some other animal. Do ye think somepoukhais followin’ us?”
Verity waved a dismissive hand as she continued to work with the foreman.
“I am serious, Verity,” Marion pressed, continuing to pull gently on her arm. “Come now, lass!”
“It was probably just the wind, Marion! Don’t be so superstitious! Besides, I am almost done.” She beamed at the foreman, who merely grunted back as they waited for his supervisor to sign off on the delivery.
“All set, miss,” the foreman announced.
“Until next time,” Verity said as they walked away and headed down the empty streets back toward their carriage.
Next time…aye, what am I goin’ to do with this lass?
As they walked on in silence, Marion couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that twisted in her gut.
“Verity, this cannae go on. Sneakin’ out and riskin’ exposure after all ye have been through. Aye, it is settled. Ye must tell Anselm. What if somethin’ happened and he dinnae ken where we are?”
“Anselm? Are you serious, Marion?” Verity asked, pausing in the street and turning to face her. “We have already talked about this. You know I simply cannot do that.”
“Perhaps he’ll understand yer passion for writin’ and need for this independence. That way there will be no secrets or shadows between the two of ye.”
“Understand what I am doing?” She shook her head. “No, Marion. You do not know him as well as I do. He sees the world as it is, without imagination. All he knows is duty. He’s a true straight arrow. He could never understand the art nor the heart of what I put on paper. It is everything I am!”
“But Verity?—”
