Page 52 of The Rogue's Runaway Bride
“You have no duty to protect me,” she reminded him.
He slowly shook his head. “How could I not protect a lady in the face of danger?” His voice was low and husky, so very appealing. “You may not agree, but I do consider myself a gentleman.”
“How very civilized.”
He regarded her with a slight frown. “Belle, if my sister was alone and in peril while your brother was in a position to provide assistance, I’d expect Jeremy to meet the challenge.”
“I suppose he would,” Belle said. “Though the endeavor would require him to consider something other than our family’s business. Jeremy strives to keep operations functioning as smoothly as the gears of a fine Swiss watch, as he likes to say.”
Meeting Jon’s perceptive gaze, Belle felt a sense of relief. He had soothed her fears. Eased her apprehension. Yet a hope she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding onto began to dim.
As she drank in the familiar scent of Jon’s shaving soap, she suspected an ever-so-slightly bitter truth—his protective instincts had little to do withher.His motives were likely rootedin duty. In a determination to do the right thing. And to act as a gentleman, no less. Jon might well have done the same for another woman facing a desperate situation.
His mouth hitched. Not quite a smile. “And remember this, Belle—I can be bloody stubborn when I have cause to be.”
“Stubborn? You?” She infused the words with a deliberately light tone. “Never.”
“Once I’ve made up my mind, no amount of argument will change it. You know that.”
“Well, we shall see.” Belle relaxed, if only a bit.
“In any case, if you leave this house now, I don’t think I could endure days of Mrs. Gilroy’s frown, and I depend on that woman to cook my meals. A smart man does not irk the person who prepares his food.”
“I rather think you would survive,” she countered.
“Besides, she’s counting on you to assist her withthe wee lass. Not to mention the dog.” His full mouth widened into a smile. “And there is the matter of our wager.”
“Surely you would not hold me to a trivial bet in the face of danger at the door.”
He cocked a brow. “Trying to weasel out of it so soon, eh?”
She suspected his light tone was intended to distract her from her worries, to ease the awful tension of not knowing whether a threat would soon present itself. She allowed herself to relax. There was no harm in enjoying this simple moment now, was there?
“You know me better than that now, don’t you?”
“I know this: I am looking forward to the aroma of apple pie baking in the kitchen.”
“Perhaps not so much as I am looking forward to preparing said pie.”Pity I’ve no idea how to actually bake the infernal pastry.
“Do I detect a lack of confidence?” Blast the man’s perceptive gaze, seeing through her so readily.
She shook her head, perhaps a bit too quickly. “Not at all,” she said, pausing to collect her thoughts. “But you must promise me that you will take swift action to protect Carrie and Mrs. Gilroy if there is any sign that Gideon’s lackeys suspect I’m here.”
“I will see to the protection of everyone in this house.” He spoke with a resolve which comforted her. “On that, Belle, you have my word.”
*
A rabbit chasedby hounds.
As Jon poured good scotch into a tumbler and settled into a leather wing chair in his study, he pictured the tense set of Belle’s soft mouth as she’d put her current predicament into words. The fear in her voice was palpable. But she was strong of heart. Courageous. She wasn’t about to be cowed by bastards like Kentsworth and his lackeys.
Damn the curs, trying to chase her down as if they were hunting dogs in pursuit of prey. What the hell was driving Kentsworth? Belle had been ready to cry off their engagement, and the discovery of his relationship with her aunt had proven her instincts were right.
Many in the high-brow social circles of London looked upon Belle as an especially valuable trophy, an heiress who was as beautiful and clever as her father as wealthy. He knew what his sister had endured over the years with the bloodyheiress hunterswho chased after her fortune. Macie had managed to put most of them off with a well-timed, mildly scandalous scene or some other shenanigan. A rare few had conducted themselveswithout a bloody scruple to their name, pursuing her as if she’d been a bounty to be claimed.
What was the bastard’s endgame? Was Belle the prize he sought? Or was it a matter of the funds the rotter might bleed from her father?
But now—now that Belle knew he’d been carrying on with her aunt—Kentsworth could no longer go through the motions of a courtship. He could not entice her back to him with pretty lies.
