Page 45 of The Bastard's Iberian Bride
He was covering for her.
She blinked. He and Thomas had come in together. He’d set the boy to look after her.
He wanted to protect her, but he didn’twanther.
She cleared her throat. “I…had trouble sleeping. I came in for a book.”
Agruen refastened his waistcoat. “Indeed. And I happened to be in here.” He looked up, his evil grin back in place. “And I say, Hackwell, I will not marry her, if that is what she was planning.”
She gasped. “How dare you.”
“Indeed, you will not marry the young lady,” Mr. Gibson said, all humor gone.
“Are you well, Miss Heardwyn?” Hackwell asked.
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Gibson,” Hackwell said, “see to the lady.” He looked hard at Agruen. “As long as you’re here, Agruen, let’s have another dram of whisky. Or do you prefer brandy? I’ve a fine bottle here somewhere.” He nodded at Mr. Gibson and led the other man into the shadows.
Mr. Gibson’s large hand swallowed hers, sending his strength coursing through her and, now that the threat was gone, settling her trembling.
Bakeley hadn’t taken her hand when he rescued her in the garden at Cransdall four years ago. But then, she hadn’t realized it was a rescue until later.
“Thomas, off to bed,” Mr. Gibson said.
“But—”
She couldn’t see the look Mr. Gibson gave the boy, but it moved him along. Thomas wished her a good night and crept away into the dark corridor.
“Close the door on your way out, Gibson,” Lord Hackwell called.
Mr. Gibson picked up her candle and led her out of the room. “Come along. As I recall, you enjoyed the brandy at Cransdall. You could use a spot of it tonight.”
* * *
The lady’squaking urged Bink to hold more than her tiny chilled hand. A damned dangerous slope, that, with a snare at the bottom, but one he was having trouble resisting.
He let go of Paulette’s hand and wrapped an arm around her, and fought the urge to let his hand slip further, down to the backside he’d had a handful of the day they’d first met.
She was slight, but not fragile. She hadn’t changed out of the gown she’d worn at dinner, and from this angle he could see that handsome bosom, kissed by the dark curls escaping from the pins at the back of her head. Willowy, she was, but womanly also.
Desire uncurled in him and his shaft stirred. Aye, Shaldon had laid him a clever trap.
“Thomas told you where I was,” she said, breathless.
“Yes.”
“Why were you there?”
“I was eavesdropping,” he said, keeping his voice mild.
She inhaled sharply.
“I wanted to see what you had to discuss with Agruen, as you so obviously found him disagreeable earlier.”
Her body stiffened. They had reached his quarters, and he opened the door and urged her in.
She locked her knees and dug in the heels of the feminine slippers peeking from under her skirt. “Where are you taking me?”
