Page 136 of The Duke's Daring Bride

Not just to his friends, or people who respected him…but to the bullies, the pompous arses of Society who’d made his life miserable when he went off to school.

Bonkinbone would accept the belladonna…from Alistair.

Rocky wasn’t standing beside the fern any longer. Where had the poisoned wine gone? Alistair’s gaze flicked around the large room, looking for Rocky. When he didn’t see the footman…

“Get…Hiro.”

She didn’t ask questions, but without dropping his hand, turned toward the far door and made a small gesture. “He’s coming,” she murmured.

“Wine?”

“I’m certain he’ll have more of it. What are you thinking?”

He hated what he was thinking, truthfully. But it would work.

It would just mean opening himself up to the humiliation he’d feared for decades.

“I…wine…him.”

Olivia’s brows were drawn in just slightly as she worked through what he was saying, then her eyes opened wider as she gasped. “You will serve him the wine?”

His chin dropped in acknowledgement. It would work—Bonkinbone would have to drink it, then.

“But—But…” She sputtered to a stop, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t ask you to do that, Alistair! He’s a monster!” Her voice lowered to a hiss. “I mean, even if he isn’t a traitor along with his brother, Bonkinbone is not a nice man. Georgia’s stories prove that!”

Again, Alistair nodded. Aye, the Earl was an arsehole, but he’d take the poisoned wine from his host. He’d drink it, he’d become ill in front of many people. He’d be rushed off for medical care, and between the newspaper and gossip, word would make it to Blackrose of his brother’s illness…

And Blackrose would return, believing his brother near death and himself the heir to the Earldom of Bonkinbone.

It would work. It was the only way.

So he offered Olivia a tight smile and squeezed her hand again. “For ye,” he rasped.

Her eyes filled with tears, and impulsively, she threw her arms around his neck.

So much for no’ wrinkling her.

Showing this much affection in public was frowned upon by Society. Already Alistair could see heads turning their way, whispers hidden behind fans, indulgent smiles.

Fook ‘em.

Because this was his wife, and he didn’t care if Society thought her too loud, too crass, too much. As far as he was concerned, Olivia was perfect.

With her lips pressed against his neck, Olivia whispered, “I love you, Alistair.”

And he felt his knees go weak.

He pulled her away just long enough to stare incredulously down at her, and saw a blush creeping up her neck. But she didn’t look away, merely met his gaze boldly, defiantly.

Daringly.

Aye, she was his perfect wife, this daring bride of his.

“I love you,” she said again, even as her lips curled into a smile.

How could he resist kissing her?

It wasn’t a deep kiss, nor a long one, and it was most irritatingly interrupted by Hiro clearing his throat.

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