Page 58 of The Moonstone Marquess
He thought Countess Rothmere might be overset by his treatment of her husband, for she had turned away and walked to stand beside the window. But he realized she was quietly laughing at her husband’s predicament.
Ah, the joys of marriage.
Or rather, he thought sarcastically, the joys of a loveless marriage.
He ordered two footmen to guard Lord Rothmere, made certain his guests were not going to do anything stupid, such as try to release him from his bonds, and then rode back to Moonstone Cottage to assure Phoebe nothing was amiss.
He could have sent a messenger, but he knew she would not be satisfied until she saw him for herself.
Well, he needed to see her too.
His soul craved her.
There were no lights on in the house save for a lone lamp shining in the parlor, a sign Phoebe had waited up for him. How did she know he would return? He tethered Hadrian beside a yew tree, then strode to the front door, intending to rap lightly on it.
But Phoebe opened it before he had the chance to knock. “I saw you ride up. Come in. Would you care for a glass of port? Is everyone all right?”
He laughed, trying to get a word in edgewise.
“I’m so glad you thought to come back. I would have stayed up all night worried.” She ran her hands along his body, suddenly realized what she was doing, and hastily dropped them to her sides. “I’m so sorry. I just wanted to be certain you weren’t hurt.”
“I’m fine.” Rather, he had been fine until seeing her in her nightclothes, her hair down and tumbling over one shoulder in a glorious cascade.
He ached for this girl.
He strode in when she stepped aside to let him pass, his heart in a rampant roar. She looked so beautiful in her prim, plain night rail that probably hid an even plainer cotton nightgown beneath it. No sultry silk to tempt him.
Yet she could not have looked more tempting if she were wearing nothing at all. Gad, his heart would burst if she ever stripped for him.
It would not happen before they were married. He was not going to rush Phoebe into doing something she was not ready to do.
But if she everwasready and willing? He would be all over her like a barnacle to the hull of a ship.
“Phoebe, you needn’t fret,” he said, his voice tight and raspy. “But thank you for worrying about me. You have no idea how good it makes me feel.”
She smiled up at him. “Feelings, Cormac? Why, I do believe we are making progress.”
“Perhaps.” He gave her cheek a light caress. “I won’t stay long. Lord Rothmere is nursing a bruised jaw. He’s lucky I did not break it.”
She led him into the parlor and motioned for him to sit beside her on the sofa. “What happened?”
He quickly related the tale to her, all of it, including Lady Seline’s role in fomenting this bit of mischief.
Phoebe’s eyes were wide and shimmering as she listened to him. “I am so sorry. Someone might have been killed because of her lies. What sort of low creature does a thing like this?” She paused a moment to stare at him. “She was the one you were involved with for years? You really have awful taste in women, you know. Has anyone told you that?”
“Everyone.” He groaned. “My brother tells me all the time. But I purposely chose these awful women because there was no chance of my heart ever being lost to one of them. Imogen refers to them as my horrible ladies.”
“Seems Lady Seline is living up to her reputation. Horrible, indeed.”
He shook his head. “I haven’t had anything to do with her for years. I don’t know why she suddenly turned her venom on me.”
“Do you think she will follow you out here to Moonstone Landing?”
“Doubtful. Her toadies are all in London. I have no idea what she would do with herself here. The quiet life bores her to tears.”
“But you are here.”
“And you think this will lure her?” He shook his head. “Phoebe, she refers to me as a grotesque cripple. She cannot stand the sight of me as I am now.”
