Part 26 (1/2)

Walking up behind her, he began to lace her up. ”Let's say, for the sake of argument, that she changed her mind.” His voice was harsh, labored. ”Suppose she decides that she doesn't approve of me. Suppose she refuses to give you your fortune if you defy her. What then?”

A knot formed in her belly. Did the money matter so much to him? ”Then we don't have her fortune. I told you. I don't care.”

”That's what you said.” His tone was flat, tense.

Feeling a growing chill in her belly, she drew on her gown so he could fasten that up, too. ”You don't believe me.”

He was silent for so long as he b.u.t.toned her up that it made her chest hurt. ”I don't believe you know what living without all that would mean.”

She whirled on him. She'd had enough of his condescension and his behaving as if he were now going to be stuck with some spoiled wife who couldn't survive in his world-a perfectly genteel world, from what she could tell. ”If you want to get out of marrying me, Jackson-”

”That isn't what I'm saying.”

”It certainly sounds that way.” She shoved her feet into her half boots, then clapped her bonnet on her head, heedless of the fact that her hair was down and her hair pins were probably scattered to the four winds. ”It's dawn. We'd better go.”

He glanced toward the door, saw the gray light seeping in around the edges, then let out a low curse. ”Yes, we'd better.”

As she pulled on her gloves, he poured the remains of the pail of water over the fire, then took his coat from the window and his surtout from the bed and donned them both.

When he came toward her with her cloak and she tried to s.n.a.t.c.h it from him, he wouldn't let her. Instead, he laid it about her shoulders and began to tie it just as she had helped him with his surtout the night before.

Seething over his superior manner and his hints about her spoiled life, she refused to look at him.

With a muttered curse, he tipped up her chin and forced her to gaze into his eyes. ”I'm merely trying to make sure that you take this seriously. That you know what you're about to get if you marry me.”

There it was again. If you marry me. ”Oh, believe me,” she snapped, ”I'm beginning to realize exactly what I'm about to get.”

Proud and Proper Pinter all the time. Days of being made to feel guilty about coming from a family of privilege and fortune, punctuated with a few glorious nights of lovemaking.

Tears stung her eyes, and she pulled away from him, not wanting him to notice.

As she started for the door, he caught her by the shoulder. ”Let me go first. There's probably a path to the road that was used by the poachers, but we can't be sure if anyone's lying in wait for us along it, so we need to move quickly and quietly. No talking. Stay as close behind me as you can, hold onto my coat, and be prepared to run if I say. Understood?”

”Yes.” She wasn't so angry at him that she would ignore the danger they might find themselves in.

He opened the door, but before walking out, he turned and took her mouth in a long, heated kiss. When he drew back, his expression was a mix of need and frustration. ”I will never let anyone hurt you. You know that, don't you?”

No one but yourself, you mean, she nearly said. Instead, she nodded.

”You trust me?”

”Of course.” She trusted him to keep her safe, at least.

He nodded, then headed out the door with her at his heels. True to his competence as a Bow Street Runner, within moments he found a path she would never have noticed and started them down it.

As she followed him in utter silence, she replayed their conversation. Was she wrong to be so upset? He was a practical man, after all. She should add that to the list: Practical, Proper, and Proud Pinter. Everything that she was not.

Well, perhaps she had a little of his pride. She'd certainly found plenty when he was making her sound like some lofty lady who couldn't live without ”fanciful creatures of sugar paste” to decorate her birthday cake.

She might not have minded that so much if he'd said he loved her, but love still hadn't entered the conversation.

You didn't say you loved him either.

No. Even though she did. Most awfully.

She groaned. When had that happened? When he'd saved her life? Or responded to her embarra.s.sing revelations about Ned by threatening to shoot the man and then calling her a fairy queen? Or had it occurred when he was making love to her with such tenderness that she would never forget the glory of it?

Oh, it didn't matter when it had happened. She loved him. Despite his pride and his lectures and his determination to make her feel like a worthless aristocrat, she'd fallen in love with the wretched fellow.

But after everything he'd said, she'd be d.a.m.ned if she told him. If he wanted her love, he would have to make that clear. Right now, all he seemed to want was her body. And possibly her hand in marriage, though she wasn't even sure about that at the moment.

Still, last night he'd said he was hers always. If he'd meant it-and she had no reason to believe he didn't-then surely they could muddle through this together. That was close to a declaration of love, wasn't it?

It wasn't as if they'd have a choice anyway. Gran was going to make them marry.

That thought cheered her. Yes, they would have to marry. So he would just have to learn to deal with her fortune and her rank and her lack of ability to do without ”silks and satins” and lace on her gowns.

And perhaps in the midst of all that, he could find a way to love her, too.

TO JACKSON'S RELIEF, they reached the road without incident. No doubt Celia's a.s.sailant had moved on once they had vanished. But that didn't mean they were out of danger-just that they were out of danger at the moment.

”Since we seem to be all right,” Celia murmured as they began walking down the road, ”do you think we could go back and check on Lady Bell?”

”That's unwise,” Jackson said. ”Whoever tried to kill you might antic.i.p.ate just such an action and even now be lying in wait for you there.”

”Oh. I hadn't thought of that. And what about your horse?”

He sighed. ”If no one steals him between here and London, he'll make it to Cheapside well enough.”

”I hope Lady Bell survived,” she said wistfully.

”As soon as we reach the estate, we'll send someone back for her, I swear.” He had his doubts about whether Lady Bell had made it but didn't voice them. Celia had enough to worry about at the moment.

Like his sobering p.r.o.nouncements in the cottage. All right, so perhaps he'd done it up a bit too brown, but he wanted her going into marriage with open eyes. He wanted no recriminations when he couldn't live up to her expectations.

Yet her words stuck in his memory: I know what your point is. That you don't live as well as my family does. That being your wife will mean giving up some things. I don't care.

She said that now, but she might not feel the same later.

Have you changed your mind about marrying me?

That made him wince. He didn't want to leave her with that fear. ”Celia,” he murmured, ”about our earlier discussion...”

”You made yourself very clear. I'm not sure there's much more to say.”

”Ah, but there is.” He caught her gloved hand in his. ”I do mean to marry you, you know. I would never abandon you now that ... well...”

”I'm ruined?” she said dryly. ”How kind of you.”

”That's not what I meant, d.a.m.n it.”