Page 84 of The Bastard's Iberian Bride
He’d protect her. He’d keep her safe. The monster would not have another chance at her. “It would be my guess also.” He clamped a hand over hers. “I will go, Paulette.”
She straightened. “What?”
“I won’t let him harm you. I will go. As your husband, I can conduct this business.”
She pulled her hand back and folded her arms. The storm returned, flashed in her, like lightening on a dark Channel night, winds ready to topple any boat within range. “And I will be where?”
Safe. You’ll be safe. He bit his lip. “Greencastle.”
Her hands flew up again, a flock of mad doves. “It’s not safe there.It’s not safe. Look what happened to Jenny.”
His chest tightened. Jenny had been wandering in the kitchen at night, and Paulette had done her own wandering. Lady Hackwell would never allow him to lock Paulette in her room. Her maid offered no restraint. The thought of her roaming that estate, the thought of her tied down with Agruen over her…
He rubbed his jaw. Worse, if there could be a worse, Agruen would harm all in his way, including Lady Hackwell.
“Cransdall then.” The spymaster’s retainers were all fully checked out and endorsed, many trained, retired operatives. It was safe as the Bank of England. And he would share all with Bakeley.
“No.”
“Paulette, Agruen is a brute.”
Her gaze sharpened. She saw too much. He did not want her to ask about that time in Spain. He did not want to have to talk about it. He wanted to shove it back into its tomb and seal the stone.
“Yes,” she said. “He’s ruthless, and possibly has more men like Spellen. You’ll be in danger, also.”
He let out a breath. “I can take care of myself.”
She huffed. “And what of me? Who’ll protect me while you’re gone?”
“Bakeley. Kincaid.”
“Leaving you unguarded, unprotected.” She shook her head. “No.”
“That’s how it must be. I’ll hire runners, but when it comes down to it, I can look after myself.”
She bit her lip. Stood. Sighed. Picked up the brandy bottle and reached for his glass, letting her robe flop open.
His shaft stirred and he swallowed a chuckle. She was trying a new tactic.
He rested a hand on her round bottom and some of the brandy spilled over the side of the glass.
She turned her attention on him, her eyes veiled by long lashes that shimmered.
Tears. Real or summoned, he wished he knew. All spies were liars, and whether she’d inherited her parents’ skills, he couldn’t tell, not yet.
“I will not leave you unprotected,” she said. “I will not let you go into danger without me.” Her husky voice turned the ripple running through him into high waves. His hand moved over the soft curves.
Desire, hot and urgent, rose and swamped him, wiping out fatigue, and thirst, and hunger for anything but her. “Will you not?” He slipped the slick silk out of its knot, dragged the tips of his fingers down her leg and lifted the hem of the gown, all the while inching her nearer.
Her knuckles went white round the head of the bottle. He was, perhaps, in danger of a coshing.
“You’ll protect me? Make sure I’m unharmed?” he whispered.
“You must promise, Bink. You must promise to take me.”
Aye, he would take her. “Love, will you release the brandy bottle?”
Her eyes widened. Her gaze flitted to the bottle, and he saw the moment she recognized the weapon in her hand. He shouldn’t have brought it to her attention.
