Page 58 of The Bastard's Iberian Bride
Chapter 12
She crossedthe distance between them and lifted her chin. Only her hands, gripped tightly at her slim waist, and the tic of a muscle near one dark eye revealed her tension.
He bent closer and she placed a hand on his chest. “Wait.” Color suffused her and she inhaled. “We can marry in Scotland.”
The buzzing started up in his head again and the big bed past her shoulder beckoned him. She wanted to marry him, and to be quick about it.
He eased in a breath and tried to think around the swelling in his trousers. She knew he wanted to go to India, and she wanted to serve both their purposes and elope to Gretna Green. And what the devil purpose of hers would be served?
“In Scotland?” he asked stupidly.
She clenched that wee hand into a fist, as if he’d just challenged her. He wrapped it in both of his and lifted it to his lips, feeling a tremor ripple through her.
“Why Scotland, Paulette?”
She exhaled. “You do not categorically object to the idea then?”
His head swam with visions of the wild north. Object? Hell, Scotland was a good idea. With the settlements already in place, eloping offered expediency and privacy, no bother with two more rounds of banns or Doctors’ Commons. “I’m warming up to it. But why Scotland?”
“Lady Tepping said if we marry in Scotland, we can divorce later—”
His chest squeezed. “Divorce.” He dropped her hand.
“You…you want to…totupme, but you don’t want to marry, not truly. You want to go to India, Thomas said.”
The summer light sparkled off dust motes and blinded him. “And you’ll be settled here in this big, empty, decaying house.”
Managing Little Norwick, bringing it into order, would keep Paulette occupied, and close to the Hackwells who’d be sure to look in on her. And maybe that had been Shaldon’s plan. The old man had sensed her restlessness from afar.
And perhaps she didn’t truly want to be alone. Perhaps his own restlessness would be curbed for a while by helping her manage. He reached for her hand again and kissed it. “It’s not a bad plan.” Except for the idea of divorce.
A smile lit her face. “We can split the income equally. You’ll have your share.”
“I imagine we’ll need all of it until we can bring this place around.” He spotted a shelf filled with games and slim books. “And then, of course, if there are children—”
“Children?”
He cupped his hands on the proud bones of her shoulders. “Do you think, after last night, I’d be content to remain in my own bed when we marry?” He stroked a line down her jaw. “I don’t think you’d be content with that arrangement either.”
She started up with more trembling and heating, her scent filling his senses. Heart thrumming, he drew her close and kissed her.
She wrested herself away and touched a hand to straighten her bonnet.
“I would not hold you from your dream. If there is a child, you may still go, and we will decide how much money is needed.”
Blast the woman. Could she not see what she wanted? What they both wanted?
They might make a bloody mess of it, but now that she’d pushed it this far, he would have her, honorably.
“Do you suppose, Paulette, I would go off and leave a child of mine?”
Her frown slid into understanding, her brows furrowing.
“What would it have meant to have your father at least in the same country?” Releasing her, he stalked to the window, shoved aside a table and turned the latch, struggling with the sash.
It was stuck, and he pounded and pushed, unable to budge it.
He heard the swish of her skirts and with his next breath took in her scent again. “There is another lock here.” She slid back a bolt he hadn’t noticed. “Try now.”
