Page 97 of Three Weeks with a Princess
“I’m glad we’re friends again,” he said, testing the waters.
She flashed him a quick, quizzical smile. “Of course we’re friends. We’ll always be friends. At least I hope so,” she added.
“I hope for rather more than that, Lia,” he said.
She threw him a veiled, even wary look. “Really? Have you decided to become my protector, after all?”
He brought her to a halt. “We’ve already discussed this. I am not turning you into a whore.” He deliberately used the ugly term, hoping to shock her into awareness.
“No? Are you a magician? Can you turn me into something more to your own liking?” She snapped her fingers. “Perhaps a fairy-tale princess? That would be nice, and very apt.”
“Very funny,” he said. “What I would like to turn you in to, as you should know with thundering clarity, is a wife.Mywife, to be precise.”
She started walking at a fast enough clip that it took a few strides to catch up to her.
“Jack, you know that’s not possible and it’s time you accepted that,” she said.
He steered her in the direction of a beech tree bordering the riverbank. A lovely wrought-iron bench in the shade of the leafy, overhanging limbs offered a sheltered spot far enough away from the house and the main gardens that they should be undisturbed.
“I don’t accept anything of the sort.” He gave her shoulder a little push and she plunked down on the seat with what he could only describe as an adorable scowl.
Her glare was sharp enough to slice him into slivers, and yet all he could think about was how enchanting she looked even when she was mad at him. He wanted nothing more than to take her down into the soft grass, slowly divest her of her clothing, and devour her gorgeous, naked body from tip to toe. He burned with the need to be inside her, plunging deep, feeling her clench around him until he found his blessed release.
She was truly going to send him straight to the madhouse—or cripple him with thwarted lust.
He propped one booted foot up on the bench and rested an arm on his thigh. “What did my sister tell you that put you off marrying me?”
“You are an utter booby,” she said with exasperation. “It seems to have slipped your mind that I have not, in fact, agreed to marry you. Quite the opposite.”
“After the events at the Cyprians’ ball, I would beg to differ.”
“If you mention that blasted ball one more time, I’m going to have to do something desperate.”
“Which would be?”
She eyed him with disfavor. “I’m thinking I might shoot you. At least then you’ll stop nagging me.”
When he laughed, her mouth curled up into a reluctant grin. She settled her bonnet on her lap and let her gaze drift to the river.
Jack was content to hold his fire and allow the scene to work its quiet magic. A gentle breeze set the tall reeds to rustling and dragonflies darted in erratic zigzags across the surface of the water. With only a few smaller boats sailing by, it was the kind of peaceful, bucolic setting that usually bored him. But this time it made him think of Stonefell and wonder how life there was proceeding in his absence. He almost missed it, which was a new sensation. The old estate had always been more of a burden than anything else. Sometimes, it had felt like a millstone around his neck, strangling him.
But now, another feeling was slowly supplanting his resentment, slipping inside so quietly he’d almost missed its arrival. It was a sense of pride in Stonefell, and recognition that it was a beautiful and noble old place very much worth saving. He couldn’t help but think that its rescue would be more honor than burden.
Lia’s features had now settled into lines of lovely serenity. The country was where she belonged, and when he thought about taking her home to Stonefell as his bride, eagerness surged within him, along with an optimism he hadn’t felt in a long time. With her by his side, to help him and to love him, what had previously felt like a burden seemed no sacrifice at all.
“I’m looking forward to going back,” he said. “To Stonefell.”
It took her a moment to catch up. When she did, her gaze narrowed. “Have you been drinking?”
“Of course not. I’m simply telling you that I’ll be happy to return home, especially with you. As my bride,” he added with pointed emphasis.
“If you take me back to Stonefell as your bride, it will be more along the order of a forced retreat because we’ll be fleeing your mother.”
“She’ll come around.”
“I doubt it.”
“Lia—” he began impatiently.
