Part 7 (2/2)

”I think it is.”

She stirred restlessly, then sat up. ”Goodness, I still have my boots on.”

”So you do.” He sat up and slid a hand down her leg, pulling her foot into his lap. ”Allow me.”

”I can untie them.”

”You already tried and made knots of them.” He deftly tugged on one knot, getting it undone fairly

quickly, then tugged her foot from the boot. The warmth of the leather made him remember the feel of

her boots upon his a.s.s, an erotic moment he'd never forget. He dropped the boot over the edge of the bed and turned to the other, which soon joined its mate on the rug. ”There.” He settled back onto his pillow, pulling her against him.

She sighed, resting her cheek against his chest. ”We always did well in bed.”

”Yes, we did.” Somehow, over the years, he'd forgotten how well they'd matched. He slid his fingers

over her cheek and buried his fingers in her hair.

She lifted her face and met his gaze. ”It was in other areas that we did not fare so well.”

He paused, his fingers still in her curls. She was right. He had two very vivid memories of Fiona from

long ago. One of her lying naked upon a blanket under a warm summer sun, her peach-hued skin flushed with pa.s.sion, her hair curling wildly about her, a satisfied-woman smile on her lips. He'd been young and bursting with pride that he'd been her first and had still managed to give her that glow.

The other memory was not so pleasant. He was standing in the rain, the world scented with lilac, as he read her words on an ink-smeared sc.r.a.p of paper, thunder roaring in the distance. Jack refused to remember the pain that day had caused him, the weeks and months of desolation. He'd learned his lesson well, though; he'd never again allowed himself to believe in love or anything else he couldn't see. Since then, life had been much simpler and far less painful.

He regarded her through half-closed eyes, glad his heart was now Fiona-proofed. It was a good thing he hadn't realized how her brothers had interfered in their relations.h.i.+p by letting slip Jack had a mistress. He had, of course. He couldn't remember the woman's name now, for there had been too many, but he'd had a mistress since he was seventeen. It was his right as a man of independence, something his parents would have regarded with disapprobation, which had made him all the more determined to enjoy it.

He'd been mad to think of marrying Fiona, a fact that had dawned on him within days of her jolting rejection. Mad to think that pa.s.sion alone was enough to carry them across the bridal bridge.

Oh, but what a pa.s.sion it had been. Every moment had been consumed with thoughts of her, of her hair, of her scent, of the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed.

Thank G.o.d he'd eventually gotten over that madness. He would make certain those old feelings-so strong and out of control-remained naught but the fantasies of the wild youth he'd once been.

Suddenly, he realized that the worst thing he could do was stay where he was, snuggled in bed with Fiona. He could not allow the natural tenderness of the afterglow to soften his heart.

Perhaps that was what she meant by ”expectations.” It would be awkward if she began to expect more of him than he was prepared to give. It would be a good idea to set her expectations to a believable level right from the beginning, so she wouldn't develop any unreasonable hopes.

Frowning a bit, he sat up, allowing Fiona to move out of his way. ”What time is it?”

She glanced past him to the clock on the mantel. ”It's almost four.”

”Ah. It's still early, then.” He flicked back the covers and slid his feet over the side of the bed.

Fiona watched in disbelief as Jack stood and began to gather his clothes. ”You...you are leaving?”

He didn't look up from pulling on his breeches. ”Of course. The gaming h.e.l.ls never close, and I've acquaintances I've yet to greet since my return to town.”

Fiona's heart sank. ”You are leaving,” she repeated, disbelief in her voice.

He sat on a chair to pull on his boots. ”As you suggested, perhaps we should discuss our expectations.” He rose and crossed to a wardrobe, where he pulled out a fresh s.h.i.+rt. ”I normally have my valet attend me, but I thought you might want more privacy. However, to make my comings and goings less disturbing, we can move you into one of the guest rooms and-”

”No.” Fiona gathered the sheets and sat upright. ”I will not be relegated to a guest room.”

He shrugged. ”As you wish. I just did not want to awaken you. I come in at varying times. So long as you are a sound sleeper-”

”I sleep just fine,” she retorted. ”But I cannot believe you are leaving.”

”I cannot believe it, either,” he said, fastening his s.h.i.+rt. ”I usually need a good hour's sleep after a romp like that.”

So that's all it was to him.Of course it is, she told herself fiercely.This is not a real marriage. This is a marriage of convenience.

Still, she could not help but feel slighted. It seemed wrong that he should jump out of bed and head to town. ”Jack, I hope...I hope people think us a well-suited couple.”

He opened the wardrobe again and removed a waistcoat. ”Why does it matter what people think?”

”If my brothers were to hear rumors that things between us weren't as they should be, they might come to town.” It would take weeks for rumors to filter back to Scotland, but she hoped Jack did not think of that.

He paused, his gaze resting on her for a moment. ”I don't wish to see your brothers ever again.” ”And I don't wish them to come to town. But if they thought I was unhappy or that you were carousing...” She shrugged. Jack's face darkened. ”That sounds like a threat.” ”It's not a threat,” she said defensively, though a twinge of guilt made her hug the sheets a bit closer. ”It'

s just the truth.”

Jack finished b.u.t.toning his waistcoat, then came to sit on the edge of the bed. He reached over and

threaded his fingers through her hair. ”Your brothers will come anyway; you are their only sister, and they care for you.”

She sighed. ”I suppose they will.”

”Once they get here, they will scrutinize our every move and annoy us to death.” He trailed his fingers

over her cheek to her lips.

She had to admit that his words rang true. She didn't want her brothers to come to London, nor did she

want them to become involved in her marriage. It would only complicate things. She also wished Jack would quit touching her; that complicated things as well. It distracted her and made it difficult to think.

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