Page 85 of His Betrothed
“Before my father died, the queen approached him about sending one of his sons to Spain. Since I speak Spanishmore fluently than Alex, he asked me to do the queen’s bidding.”
She opened her eyes, feeling hope flood through her.The queen’s bidding?
“It gave me a reason to escape London; our botched wedding was proving too much to deal with.”
When she tried to offer an apology, he raised a hand. “That’s behind us now; let me finish. You have to understand what it felt like to be an asset because ofmy heritage, and not scorned. I thought maybe I could prove myself to everyone at court, to be of use for something besides a scandal.”
“Oh, Spencer,” she whispered. “Idounderstand what you mean.”
“I sailed with Admiral Drake early last year, and while he raided the Spanish coast, I was left off near Cadiz. I spent the next year amongthe soldiers of the armada. They were a sad, desperatelot, with not enough food to eat or garments to wear. When we sailed up the English Channel, I had already planned to leave the ship near Wight, to bring my information to London. But on the journey, the other British spies began to turn up murdered.”
Roselyn felt a lump of fear in her chest at the thought of what he must have gone through. But still, her doubts would not leave her.
“The murdererwas Rodney Shaw, the last British spy but for me. On board ship, I discovered his plot to blame me for everything. He and his henchman beat me, but before they could kill me I threw myself overboard.”
“And washed up on Wight,” she murmured. His story fit perfectly—too perfectly? She didn’t dare bring up the pouch. How could she hand it over if she wasn’t certain of his loyalty—certain of him?
“Needless to say,” he continued dryly. “You and I did not get along. At first I couldn’t trust you with this—and then later I realized I couldn’t put you in danger by telling you.”
“But I was always suspicious,” she said coolly. “When you were delirious, you spoke in Spanish.”
“My mother is Spanish—why should this alarm you?”
“You wanted no one to know where youwere; you didn’t even want meto send a message to your family.”
“But—”
“And you wanted to remain with me, a woman you despised, in a humble cottage instead of at the grand manor you considered yours by betrothal contract.”
“I never despised you,” he said softly. “It just took me a while to get over my anger.”
Spencer studied Roselyn’s calm eyes by candlelight. She’d become a part of him, someone he would sense even inthe dark, even when he was lost.
“You stayed in my cottage,” she continued. “Why?”
“I couldn’t risk being seen. The more people who knew where I was, the more danger I was in. And I must admit, I took some satisfaction in forcing my presence on you.”
She arched one eyebrow. “And then the Spaniard came. Did you know him?” she asked softly.
Ah, she still had her doubts. But now that he was tellingher everything, shehadto believe him. She needed to understand the danger there could be for her in London; she needed to return to her island and let him finish the mission he’d begun.
“I knew who the Spaniard was. He was in theemploy of my enemy, Shaw. He was one of the men who held me while Shaw beat me.”
She touched his arm, and he felt the shudder that moved through her. He put his handon hers and she didn’t pull away.
“Shaw sent the Spaniard to finish the task, but instead he hurt you,” he said.
Though Spencer knew Roselyn didn’t want his touch, he couldn’t help sliding his arm around her waist, pulling her close. She didn’t resist, nor did she relax against him.
He pressed his lips to her temple and closed his eyes, inhaling the smell of her, feeling the blood speed throughhis veins as he remembered her welcoming body beneath him in the garden. It had been so difficult to leave her, even though the danger to her frightened him.
He tilted her chin and loosened the clasp on her cloak. As it fell from her body, he noticed that her widow’s weeds were gone.
He smoothed his hand up her waist, then gently cupped her breast. “You’re wearing new garments.”
He could feelher heart flutter near his fingers, felt the beat pick up and match pace with his own.
“These are for traveling,” she countered, whispering.
