Page 75 of The Lord Meets His Lady
“Something’s got you in a stir.” Samuel chuckled.
Marcus exhaled slowly. “There’s got to be another alternative to marriage.”
“If you’ve got one, let me know, but the clock’s ticking. Herr Wolf will be here tomorrow, and if Miss Turner’s not wed, he’ll have every lawful right to take her to Prussia and keep her there.”
“The marriage… It doesn’t have to be forever,” she interjected, her coffee-dark eyes glittering. “I’m not sure why it bothers you so much.”
“Exactly,” Samuel agreed. “While you were mooning about over there, Miss Turner and I realized she need only be legally wed until the Prussian leaves. Then both parties may seek an annulment. An expensive and lengthy proposition. There’d be drastic steps to remove the marital yoke…but itispossible.”
“Still, marriage,” Marcus muttered. “Seems too severe an option. I’m not ready.”
Miss Turner’s brow arched. “And who says I’d marry you?”
He blinked. Though he stood on the hearth’s stony foundation, the earth shifted again. Too much of late with her around. His mouth opened, but no words came.
Her lips pursed with a pretty moue. “Mr. Beckworth offered to marry me until Rein—I mean, Herr Wolf—leaves.”
“You can’t marry him.”
“I can, and I shall.” She faced Samuel. “Let me clean up and get my gloves.”
Both men kept an eye to the doorway, waiting for her footsteps to fade.
“What’s wrong with that plan?” Samuel asked. “Coldstream is across the bridge, perfect for quick weddings.”
It was true. Coldstream rivaled Gretna Green for fast weddings over the anvil. Many a blacksmith turned his hand at forging frantic travelers into newly married couples.
“And perfect for you to get Miss Turner in your bed.” The image singed him badly.
Samuel folded the contract with care. “I’ll forget you said that.”
Mouth pinching, Marcus hated thinking the worst of his friend. The truth was he wanted Miss Turner in his bed, and by the knowing light in Samuel’s eyes, his friend knew it.
“She’ll sleep in the same bed off the kitchen.”
“Think of Adam,” Marcus protested. “An impressionable young man. How would you explain your wife sleeping in the servant’s room?”
Samuel’s smile split wide. “Let me worry about Adam’s youthful sensibilities.” A taunting brow arched high. “No one else is stepping gallantly forward to help Miss Turner. I might as well.”
Marcus sucked in a deep breath. “Is this part of your plan to keep me in Northumberland?”
“You’ve discovered my evil plan,” Samuel mocked. “I’m tying you down with horses, a housekeeper, and chickens.”
“Chickens?”
“Mr. Dutton’s delivery when he collected his sisters. Alexander and Adam put them in your grandfather’s old chicken coop. They’re tending the horses as well.”
Marcus pulled at his neckcloth again. If his grandfather were here, what would he have to say about this madness?
“It’s you or me,” Samuel said quietly. “We have options, one being a plan of desertion. Miss Turner could leave an unhampered woman once this Prussian is gone, and you’d be free to leave by winter’s end. Now stop acting like an ass.”
Marcus stared at the settee, recalling Miss Turner’s reverent touch on the purple velvet her first night here. “I did the same to her in your barn. Traded her like chattel.”
“We both did. It’s why we’re indebted to her.”
True. They both owed a debt of gratitude to the amber-haired housekeeper, but that wasn’t the cause of his internal bedlam. He couldn’t let her go. He craved her presence. Singing in his kitchen while he soaked in the scullery. Outwitting him in negotiations. Sitting with him before this very fire at night, her body cozy against his as she read.
His mouth quirked. Would she come to his bed if they were lawfully wed?
