Page 85 of A Scottish Bride for the Duke
Her fingers pinched him lightly, asking him to keep quiet. And so, despite every instinct telling him to remove her from Moreton’s view, he kept silent.
“Ye do me a great honor,” she said, the thick accent in her voice more pronounced than ever. “I cannae deny ye.” She removed her hand from Adrian’s arm, and he wanted to bellow at the loss. “I will return for ye, husband,” she said in a promise that made his blood boil.
Returning meant leaving, and even though he knew she had said such a thing to assure Moreton that her absence would be noticed, he despised it anyway.
But eyes were on them, and he could not afford to give into his feelings. And so, with nothing else to be done, he bowed over her fingers with as much grace as he could muster.
“Hurry back, wife,” he said and turned his gaze to Moreton, offering the other man a smile he didn’t deserve. “Bring her back in one piece.”
“Of course.” Moreton bowed. “You’ll barely notice she’s gone.”
“I very much doubt that.” Adrian dropped his smile, and he watched his wife disappear with the man who wanted her dead, his muscles trembling and dark thoughts clouding his mind.
As she left, he knew one thing for certain: she had done more than get under his skin.
And he didn’t know how he would ever be able to live with himself if something happened to her.
Isobel tried to quell the frantic beating of her heart as Lord Moreton led her straight through the crowd to where another set was forming in the middle of the floor.
“So,” he said, standing opposite her. “We finally have a chance to speak, Lady Isobel. Sorry.” A slow, cruel smile spread across his mouth. “Your Grace. An excellent move, I should say. Protecting yourself with one of the most powerful men in the country. I applaud your ingenuity.”
“I don’t need yer praise.”
“Then what would you have from me?”
“Nothing.”
His smile was gently taunting. “Oh, that seems a pity when we know each other so well. Tell me, does your newfound husband know about our prior acquaintance?”
Isobel hesitated, not knowing how much of the truth to give. How muchcouldshe give? Her heart constricted. Fear tugged at her senses. But she kept her composure and looked up at him with as much daring as she could.
“Yes,” she said. “He knows everything.”
“Everything? Is that so?”
“Yes. And he’s going to help me. He’ll help bring ye to justice.” She tilted her chin up. “Together, we’ll make sure ye face justice.”
“Is that so?” He smiled, the expression cruel. “It seems as though you have no idea of what I am capable. A surprise, given everything you have seen. Unless, of course, I was mistaken.”
She knew what he was implying. He wanted confirmation of exactly what she had heard. But if she gave him that, she would give him ammunition with which to harm her.
“I know what ye did to that girl,” she hissed.
“Oh? Then surely you know that I can do the same thing to you, too.”
“Ye cannot. I’m not so likely to fall for your plots, and you will find it harder to infiltrate my husband’s house.”
His expression turned contemplative. “You care for this duke, then? I’d thought him a mere means of defense, but it seems as though he means more to you than that.”
Immediately, Isobel realized her mistake. “He is nothing to me,” she said, but her words were breathy and unconvincing. “It helps us both to present a united front.”
“Certainly, it helps you. But if he dies, you will still remain a duchess.”
Her blood ran cold. “He will not die.”
“No? My, my, Your Grace, again you underestimate me. Do you think me so incapable of harming him?”
His eyes glittered, impossibly dark and cold, like the endless depths of a bottomless lake. Frozen. Unyielding. Deadly.
