Page 69 of To Treasure an Heiress
She’d been thinking she’d like to meet his sisters ... but they might not be so keen on meetingher. If they wanted a bride for their brother like Lady Elizabeth Sinclair, sister of the Earl of Telford, then they certainly wouldn’t be happy with Miss Elizabeth Tremayne, nobody from nowhere.
And had someone told her a few weeks ago that she’d be worrying over something like that, she would have laughed in their face. Yet here she sat, wondering if she could convince him to hold her hand again. Wondering what he’d do if she started playing along with his joking references to marrying her. Wondering how she could win his sisters over.
“Well.” He slapped his hands on his knees. “You look exhausted. I should let you rest. I suppose. I mean—of course I want you to rest. And recuperate. But I’m also happy to, at any time whatsoever, tell you another story. Or go and fetch you something to eat or drink. Or hire a Sherpa to lead me up a mountain if you decide a quest for some miracle potion is in order after all.”
She chuckled again. She probablyshouldsend him away for something or another and give herself a reprieve from him before she gave in to the urge to start planning their wedding. And now that she paused to consider it, why had no one else come in during all this time? It wasn’t exactly proper that they’d been left alone for hours on end. She frowned. “Where is everyone else, anyway?”
“Oh, ah.” He lifted his fingers, ticking them off as he said, “Your brother went out to try and hunt down theNaiad. Telford went with him—and I think they meant to stop at St. Mary’s and let Lady Emily know what happened. See if she or Briggs had any ideas about where Scofield would have gone. Libby and your cousin Mabena dropped in while you were still asleep and said they’d be back to check on you again this evening. And your grandmother...” He frowned. “I’ve no idea. She usually takes a nap after tea, though, so I assume she’s resting. Bit much excitement for her, I think. She looked pale as a ghost when she saw the doctor out.”
Guilt bit just as deeply as the pain. The last thing she’d wanted was to cause her grandmother any more stress. “Poor Mamm-wynn. Would you see if she’s up yet so I can tell her again how sorry I am? And I would love some tea.”
“Straightaway.” He sprang to his feet. “Tea and Mamm-wynn and—wait, just tea? As in the beverage? Or would you fancy tea, complete with Mrs. Dawe’s crumpets? Or cakes. Or whatever she’s made for today, I don’t frankly know, I couldn’t even think to ask at the time. Though now that you mention it—or now that I have, if you only meant the beverage—I could use a bite myself.”
And if no one had been there to eat the food Mrs. Dawe would have prepared as her own means of stress relief, then she was likelyfit to be tied. Although at least she’d have had Ainsley and Collins and Senara to feed, and hopefully Mamm-wynn ate something as well. “You know, a full tea sounds like just the thing. I’ve had nothing since breakfast.”
“Then a full tea you shall have.” With a grin and an exaggerated salute, he spun on his heel and made for the door.
She couldn’t have said what it was about the action that tied her heart into a knot. Maybe it was the light in his eyes at having a mission. Maybe it was the shadows that underscored it. Maybe it was the way he strode through her house, perfectly at home as he aimed for the kitchen like a family member instead of the highest-ranking guest they’d ever entertained. Maybe it was the way his shoulders looked as he moved, or—no. It was the mud stains that still stretched across them, from where he’d put shoulder to granite to stabilize the stone while Ollie pulled her out.
He really had been willing to play Atlas for her, if it would help. And since they had returned home, he’d not taken the five minutes to change into fresh clothes. Because he’d been too focused on her, even when she was with the doctor or soaking in a hot tub. Senara had said he’d been pacing the drawing room like a caged lion that whole time, which was what inspired Mamm-wynn to set her up this little sickbed down here instead of in her own room.
“Sheridan. Wait.” She pushed herself up a few more inches, heart pounding from her own thoughts more than the effort. Her throat felt tight as he turned back around. She didn’t know what she wanted to say, exactly. She could thank him. Or ask him why in the world he was so good to her when she’d been utterly horrid to him at the start.
But he’d already addressed that, hadn’t he? She lifted a hand. “What was it you said I’d have to do to convince you to give me another chance?”
For a second, he stood as still as a monolith in the doorway, his face frozen. Then, in the next, he was flying back across the room so fast she feared he meant to leap at her. But no, he just droppedto his knees at her side, and his hands came up to frame her face, his own so close to hers. She could scarcely swallow. He smelled of rain and earth and adventure. “I believe there was begging involved.” Her voice sounded strange even to her. Low. Hoarse.
The fault, no doubt, of his eyes and the way they gleamed as his gaze caressed her face. “Only for a decade. And I’m willing to negotiate on that. We can cut it down to five years. Or minutes. Or perhaps, since I’m feeling rather generous, a second or two.”
Well, that was only fair. She nodded as much as his hands allowed. “Sheridan. Theo. I am so sor—”
His lips pressed to hers, cutting off the apology.
An interruption that made her blood hum in her veins. She leaned toward him until her ribs and the bandages they were wrapped in protested, resting a hand against his chest and nearly smiling against his mouth when she felt the pounding of his heart beneath her palm.
How was it possible that she had this effect on him?
Regardless, he had a matching one on her. She kissed him back, kissed him again, or let him kiss her again, or ... it didn’t much matter who initiated each new touch of lips. Only that they continued, and her pulse raced in time with his galloping heart, and for a few moments she forgot the pain and the bruises and the questions and the fears.
This. This was the adventure she’d always craved. The feeling she’d always sought. The discovery she’d always longed for.
Her brother had been right, in a way. Finding it wasn’t about thewhere—because here they were, in her own drawing room.
It was about thewith whom.
She hadn’t known to ask the question that way. But now she had her answer. All the adventure she’d ever need could be found with him. Theodore Howe, Marquess of Sheridan. Her very own prince.
Well. Close enough, anyway.
19
Sheridan eased shut the door to his room, letting the soft click act as punctuation to his thoughts. Letting it still them. Solidify them.
He’d known the moment he dropped to his knees at Beth’s side what he had to do. Well, after kissing her. And kissing her made all other thoughts fly from his head. Then, after he’d eventually convinced himself to break away, he had to go for tea. And enjoy it with her. And then kiss her again before their little bubble of privacy popped into the usual chaos of brothers and best friends and cousins and Dawes and grandmothers.
But after that, there’d been no question at all. Into his room. Over to the little desk against the wall. Into the chair. And out with the paper.
Even so, he stared at the blank page for a long moment before he unscrewed the cap of his fountain pen. Not because he didn’t know what he wanted to write, but because there was so much of it, he wasn’t exactly sure where to begin.
