Page 92 of The Bastard's Iberian Bride
A grimace puckered his brow. “And then we’ll talk.”
His attention flew to the baggage being loaded and her heart plummeted, and sheknew—this manor was to be her prison. Gibson was locking her up and leaving for London without her.
Well, they would see about that.
Jenny and Mabel approached, carrying her lap desk and a satchel. He led her around to the other side of the coach and reached for the door.
She snatched at his arm. “Mr. Gibson—”
The line in his forehead deepened. “So I’m to be Mr. Gibson.”
Blood raced and clanged in her head, clouding her vision. Her jaw ached from clenching it.
“There’s no one close by to hear, Paulette.” His voice rasped.
She gritted her own teeth. No one would hear, and that was supposed to placate her? “Edward.” She yanked open the door. “Bink.” She stomped a foot on the stair. “Gibson.”
Swallowing, she glanced back at him. “Mr. Gibson.” She took in an angry breath. “Mr. Bloody Gibson. May you rot.”
“Wait.” He tugged at her elbow, and when she looked, he was frowning.
Not frowning. His face had crumpled. The line was there, between his eyes, and both eyes shone.
The kiss, hard, passionate, caught her all unawares and knocked her off balance. She clutched at his shoulder, though there was no need. He’d swept her in close, so close she could feel his heart beating.
The coach shimmied and he pulled back from the kiss, pressing her head to his chest and knocking her bonnet askew.
“You may call me whatever you wish, Paulette, as long as you continue to kiss me like that.”
Her hands fisted, and she swallowed a sob, fighting for breath.
“I’ll only be able to keep kissing you if you take me with you to London.”
He set her away from him and stood looking at her.
Damn him. Hewasleaving her.
“Into the coach with you,” he said. “Bakeley says we’ll be there within the hour and he’ll have hot baths and dinner waiting.”
She pressed her lips closed on a curse. She’d have her hot bath and her meal, and then she was leaving.
He all but lifted her in and she settled upon the seat. Jenny and Mabel climbed in from the other side.
“That was quite a kiss.” Mabel bent over to wedge the lap desk on the seat, effectively hiding the smirk Paulette had glimpsed. “Ah look, there’s a basket of food here. We won’t starve before reaching wherever we’re going. Where might that be, Polly? Do you know?”
Did she? She’d paid attention to the route from Gretna, and she knew this road would eventually lead to London. She could figure this out.
“A manor nearby. One of Shaldon’s properties.”
Mabel offered her a hunk of cheese but she waved it away, and Jenny took it gratefully.
Jenny had known much of hunger, Paulette thought. She’d taken her assault in stride, also. And she could handle a knife, she’d said.
Mabel would be of no help in her escape from this manor. Mabel would tell Johnny, and Johnny would tell Mr. Gibson.
However, Jenny, she might be able to confide in.
What would Mama have done?
