Page 98 of No One's Bride
“I dinnae despise ye—” The words were lost to a keen cry.
“Good, because I’m madly in love with you.”
Waves of ecstasy rippled through her body. Such was the depth of her euphoria, she wasn’t sure she heard him correctly.
“I’m in love with you, Ailsa,” he repeated, a chuckle bursting from him. “Damn, it feels so good to say that aloud.”
She blinked in shock, though her body hummed with pleasure.
“We were made for each other,” he whispered.
Had he not just pushed her to the glittering heights of a climax, she might have had more faith in his word. “Are ye sure it’s nae lust talking?”
He kissed away her doubts. “It’s as if I’ve always known. As if our lives have been a journey across stepping stones just to arrive at this moment.”
Ailsa looked into his compelling blue eyes, wondering why she had ever doubted his capacity for romantic gestures. “That’s the second most beautiful thing ye’ve ever said to me.”
“What’s the first?”
“That lewd note I keep with me always.”
He scanned the bodice of her dress. “Perhaps I should write you another. One to stimulate the senses.”
Panic set in as she heard the pad of footsteps on the stairs.
Sebastian straightened her skirts and was about to step away, but she cupped his cheek, stared into his eyes and made a confession.
“I love ye with every fibre of my being.”
ChapterNineteen
After spending the day helping Mr Daventry construct a plan, Ailsa’s first task was complete. She left the Chadwick residence and pulled her cloak tightly across her body. Fog crept through the dark streets like a supernatural being, but this investigation had taught her the living were more terrifying than the dead. Keen to return to the safety of Mr Daventry’s carriage, she stepped onto the pavement and peered through the murk.
The coach was a hulking black shadow amid the gloom. Still, the sight brought little comfort. Feeding information to Miss Chadwick had been the easy part of the plan. At some point in the next hour or two, Ailsa would confront a murderer.
With the thud of her heartbeat masking the sound of her hurried footsteps, she reached the vehicle and climbed inside.
“Well?” Mr Daventry shuffled right, making room for her on the seat. “Did Miss Chadwick take the bait, or was she suspicious?”
Ailsa found the woman’s reaction odd. She had stared at the stuffed stoat, the life draining from her face, her mouth gaping. “I told her we have the letter Mr Hibbet sent to Mrs Murden. That he confessed to spying for the French. She seemed dazed by the news.”
“Trust me,” Aaron Chance said from the seat opposite, “don’t presume to know a woman’s thoughts. All are born for the stage.” He glanced at Ailsa and inclined his head. “Originals excepted.”
Mr Daventry rapped on the roof. The carriage rolled forward and picked up speed. “It’s a shame Miss MacTavish is in love with Lord Denton. Is it not time you considered taking a wife?”
“A wife?” Mr Chance scoffed like he would prefer to eat his own arm. “I’d rather take a dose of poison. I trusted a woman once. Look where it got me. A mere boy left to raise four children on the streets.”
“You can’t live in the past forever.”
“I’m master of my own domain and can do whatever I please.”
Mr Daventry smiled. “Love is all that matters. I’m certain Miss MacTavish will agree.”
“Love doesn’t warm cold limbs,” Mr Chance snapped, his tone full of contempt. “Love doesn’t fill a grumbling belly.”
Keen to bring the conversation back to the case, Ailsa said, “I mentioned Mr Hibbet left a list of associates hidden in his apartment. That the search for the document will begin tomorrow.”
“Good. And the grimoire?”
