Page 47 of His Betrothed
“Was there somewhere else you did the majority of your carousing?”
His eyes narrowed. “My carousing?” He suddenly lifted himself off her and rolled onto his back.
She told herself to be thankful that she had escaped from some dark knowledge about herself that didn’t bear contemplation. Yet lying in the prickly grass, looking up at the wide sky, she felt vulnerable and unprotected withouthis body above her.
“I know how you love a good scandal,” she said, thankful that her voice grew stronger.
She glanced at Thornton. His mouth was a hard slash through his short beard, and his eyes were narrowed.
“I’m good at scandal,” he said softly. “So why don’t you tell me the one you’ve been dying to share all day?”
“I just…heard things.”
“From Heywood.”
“Yes.”
With a “hmph,” he closedhis eyes. “I’m waiting.”
Roselyn felt ridiculous lying out in the open at his side but she was glad of this chance to understand the man she almost married. “This scandal took place at one of the parties you attended, but I guess you must have begun it long before.”
He gave an exaggerated sigh. “Scandal and riddles?”
“How can you not remember? There was fighting and screams, and then they—theypulled at each other’s hair!”
“Who?” he asked, lifting his head to look at her.
She sat up and leaned back on one arm to better see his face. “Your mistresses, of course.”
“My mistresses?”
“All three of them had been invited to the party—did you know that would happen?”
“Naturally not,” he said, without even a good pause that she could read something into. “I tried to keep the silly chitsaway from each other, but they so enjoy my company.”
Thornton gave her the perfect rakish grin.
She was partly amused, partly horrified. Why would one man need so many women?
“What did everyone do when the one woman pulled off the other’s wig?”
He only laughed and shook his head. “I don’t tell tales, as you seem fond of doing.”
He sat up so quickly, his shoulder brushed her chin. “Be a dearand help me up.”
A dear? What was she, his grandmother? No, she was his nursemaid, the betrothed he hadn’t bothered to woo—not when he had so many other women fighting over him.
As she stood up, a feeling of shame and embarrassment swept over her. But lives were at stake here, not her silly pride. She wasn’t any closer to discovering whether he was a Spanish spy or not.
Spencer took Roselyn’shands in his own, and as he rose, tried not to pull too hard. When he stood upright, he rested his hand on hershoulder for balance, and even the touch of her collarbone sent his blood thundering through his body. Never had he thought he would be affected by her, not after what she’d done two years before.Shewas supposed to be aroused, and he was supposed to remain distant. He told himself thatthis…awareness between them must bother her more than it did him, but maybe that wasn’t true. Maybe once again, he was the foolish one.
But he’d wanted to kiss her, God help him. It was getting to the point where he couldn’t keep his gaze off her mouth, so full and perfect for kisses. Did she know how tempting she was? She certainly couldn’t have missed how temptedhewas.
And what would a kisshurt? He would be gone soon—just ten more days—and she would hardly be damaged by it.
They started walking slowly back the way they’d come, his arm around her shoulders. He was forgetting what it was like to walk alone.
He tried to think of nothing but the vivid sky, where gulls wheeled about. He could hear the crash of ocean waves, and even catch sight of that endless blue expanse when theycrested a small hill.
