Page 141 of The Duke's Daring Bride

“But if I can’t go hunting down a story alone, then I don’t think it’s fair that you can go into the East End looking for criminals.”

His gaze didn’t meet hers. “Dinnae…look for them.”

“They find you, yes, yes. And as one of the people you saved, I can tell you we’re all quite grateful. But Alistair.” Olivia waited until he glanced up, then held his gaze. “Am I going to spend every night worried for you? Wondering where you are? If you’re safe?” His expression didn’t give anything away. “You’d do that to me, knowing how I feel about you?”

Unbidden, her hand dropped to her stomach again, and his gaze followed.

Then to her surprise, he shook his head and pinched her big toe. Was that a massage technique she didn’t recognize?

“Tonight…” Her husband swallowed. “Realized I must…give up. Nae more…Dark Knight.”

“Ever?” Well, she had to admit she was surprised.

“Cannae risk…people learning who…I am.” His eyes met hers once more. “Cannae risk ye.”

Oh.

Oh.

Her lips spread into a smile as he nodded. As if everything was decided, so simply. She didn’t have to worry about him, because he wasn’t going to be risking himself any longer.

Just like that, her future was secured once more.

Thoughtfully, Olivia chewed on a sliver of Danish Blue as she studied her husband, who had finished with her feet and was now rubbing the muscles in her calf.

“When we married, you agreed I could continue my work at the paper. Why the sudden objection now?”

His fingertips now brushed the delicate inside of her knee, and she sucked in a thankfully grape-free breath. He wasn’t looking at her, and she couldn’t decide if the movement was part of the massage, or if this whole enterprise—cheese, wine, tender touches which melted her core—was a seduction.

“Alistair?”

“That was before…I loved ye.”

Oh.

Seduction it was, then.

“What?”

“I said—”

“No!” Olivia tossed the grape and lunged forward, not even caring when the cheese plate on her lap went flying. Which should just prove how desperate her heart felt; to not care about flying cheese…

Thankfully, she had the sense to pull her legs from Alistair’s lap before she reached him, grabbing his shirt in her fists…otherwise she would have seriously wrenched something.

“No,” she repeated, resisting the urge to shake him, as their gazes met. “You love me?”

His hands crossed around hers and his lips twitched. “How…can you doubt?”

He loved her.

The cheese. The foot rub. The whole humiliating-himself-in-front-of her-enemies thing. He cared for her, she’d realized, but… “Love?” she whispered.

“What?” he rasped, as his thumbs began to caress the back of her hands. “Ye’re the only one…who can love…the one they married?”

“This was supposed to be a marriage of convenience,” Olivia accused weakly.

“Bloody inconvenient.”

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