Page 81 of The Bastard's Iberian Bride
The flame in his eyes smoldered higher. Her breath caught.
Thought, he’d said. He’d changed his mind about leaving, and a thrill jolted through her. He was staying. They would be doing this every night.
“Now I have you.” Those big fingers moved over her face again.
“And now you can do good?”
“I can protect you.” His eyes drifted closed.
She remembered the conversation with Kincaid, which seemed like a lifetime ago. “What are you protecting me from?”
He opened his eyes and studied her.
She was the daughter of spies. She might not be very good at the task herself, but she could see a lie coming.
She tapped a finger on his great chest, so firm with its muscle and bone, so distracting. “Kincaid said the same thing. That you would protect me. And I asked him from what. And he said I must ask you.”
A loud rumbling rolled out of him.
“If we are to have trust between us—”
He clamped a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t know, Paulette. I don’t know what danger. Or from who. I only know what Shaldon said, that you would be in danger.”
Shaldonsaid?Whendid Shaldon say? Andwhyhad no one told her?
She sat up, reached for the discarded nightrail, and covered herself. “Which Shaldon, the old or the new?”
“The old. I don’t believe Bakeley knows about this. He wasn’t present when I talked to the old man, and I didn’t discuss it with him.”
That sent her mind into a dizzying calculation. She was in danger. Yet Mr. Gibson had been planning to return her to Cransdall, even though Bakeley knew nothing of the threats to her.
Hot anger flared in her. “You don’t know what. You don’t know who. Whatdoyou know?”
A frown burned the line deeper between his eyebrows. “We will discuss this in the morning.”
“Oh no, you don’t.” She found the hem of the nightgown and pulled it over her head. “Oh no, we will not. I will not be fobbed off until morning.”
“Paulette.”
She batted his hand away, leaped off the bed, and retrieved her discarded dressing gown.
“Paulette.” Exasperation laced his slurred voice.
No doubt he was exhausted. She didn’t care. “I must know. Or I must puzzle this out. I’m not a child.”
He threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood.
Gloriously nude. Her gaze flew to his groin, and she forced it away and then turned her whole body.
Drat the man. There’d been the start of a grin on his face. He was trying to distract her.
Hands stroked her shoulders.
“I shall…scream. I shall cause a scene. A fight on our wedding night. The other guests will be shocked.”
“There are no other guests.”
No other guests. The empty courtyard, the two men in the taproom who were guards, Kincaid had said.
