Page 110 of The Lyon Returns
“IfI agree,” he began, and shifted his gaze toward her, “youwill stay out of sight and in the coach while I question her.”
“In the coach?” She sounded so appalled, he nearly laughed.
“Yes. I would take you to my apartments there to wait, but apparently, that is where she and the babe are holing up.”
“Sir,” she began, her voice cajoling and ever-so-slightly condescending.
He pressed his lips together to keep from grinning as she continued. “Would it not look more strange to anyone who may be watching your property if you leave your wife outside on the street for an extended time?”
He snorted. Too clever by half was his little bluestocking wife.
“Besides, my presence will reassure her.”
He eyed her hand, still squeezing his arm. He wanted to strip her glove off and bare her elegant hands. Wanted to feel her cool fingers against his face, his nape, wanted them weaving in his hair. “How?” he demanded, his voice rough.
She blinked, no doubt taken aback by his harsh tone. “I doubt she would worry you meant to entrap her with your wife present.”
He grunted in acknowledgment and took her gloved hand, raising it to his mouth to tug at the leather with his teeth.
At her sharp, indrawn breath, his cock hardened, not that it wasn’t already halfway there.
Having worked off her glove, he tossed it aside and sucked her pinky into his mouth, then gently nipped the tip. He reached for her other hand.
“I…sir, what are you doing?” she asked, her voice satisfyingly breathless.
I need your hands on me,he wanted to growl. “I thought you might be more comfortable for the extended drive,sanstravel gloves.”
She swallowed. “Very thoughtful of you. Sir, do we have an agreement?”
Having removed her second glove, he met her gaze. Challenge gleamed in her sky-blue eyes, but also, a burgeoning hunger.
“Yes.” He started to reach for her, then stopped short, silently lambasting himself for his lack of control. What had gotten into him, fawning over her like a besotted imbecile? He could manage a few measly hours alone with the woman without ravishing her. Probably.
“Now for the other matter we must discuss,” she said, eyes watchful.
“What’s that?” He sank back into the corner and gazed out the window as if bored. As if he had no notion whatother mattershe meant to broach.
“You said once we were secluded in our travel coach and assured of privacy you would clarify your plan. You implied, nay, youinsistedno one would be hurt as a result of our pretense.”
He sighed. He may as well get this over with. Turning to look at her, he fixed her with a steady eye. “Gwen, the problem here is simple—there is none. You labor under a misapprehension.”
She frowned. “I do? And what is that?”
“Our marriage is no longer a pretense.”
Her face went perfectly blank. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me.”
She said nothing, just stared at him in dumb stupefaction.
“Before this afternoon, we had a forged document attesting to a fraudulent marriage. Today, however, we recited vows before a chamber filled with witnesses, and performed by a registered clergyman. Documents have been filed. Gwen, I offered you a way out. You insisted you were fine going through with the thing. Frankly, I do notsee the problem.”
Her fair brows shot up nearly to her hairline. “You do not see the problem, sir?” she demanded, her voice pitching high.
“No. You claimed to not want a husband, so it is not as if by marrying me you will be forgoing another opportunity.”
She blinked rapidly. “Yes, but, what about the part where I still end up with a husband?”
