A Momentary Marriage(28)

“No, but you needn’t have made it appear we were embracing, either.”

“I thought you would rather . . . since there were people watching . . .”

Color returned slightly to his face. His mouth curved up on one side. “Still . . . it’s a trifle improper, isn’t it, snuggling in plain sight?”

“Snuggling! I like that—I try to help you, and you call me improper.”

“I rather liked it, too.” He leaned closer, murmuring, “Perhaps we should add to the verisimilitude.” His lips touched hers, light as they had been after their vows, but clinging a little this time, then pressing closer. He straightened, his eyes warm, his expression faintly bemused.

Flustered, Laura drew in a quick breath. She could feel her cheeks heating, and she didn’t know where to look. “I—there is a bench over there. We should sit down.”

“Perhaps we should.”

She turned, sliding her arm around his waist, and urged him toward the bench. He went docilely, his arm around her, though his steps were steady enough now. His body was warm against hers, solid beneath the separation of their clothes. Her lips still tingled from his kiss. His taste lingered on her mouth.

Why had he kissed her? What did it mean? He was putting on a show for his family. He was teasing her. But there had been that look on his face, a little surprised, a little amused, even a little wistful.

They sat down, his arm stretched along the back of the bench. Laura’s nerves still jumped, and her thoughts skittered around, searching for someplace safe to light. “James . . .” She turned to face him, which had the added advantage of putting distance between them. “I appreciate your coming to my defense.”

“So we’re back to that.”

“Yes. We are. I understand your reasons. But I have no problem with your family.”

“Give them time.”

“I don’t want to be the cause of trouble between you and your sister.”

“You aren’t. Archie is the cause of trouble. Always has been.”

“But you could overlook his behavior this once. Be the better man.”

“Being a better man than Archie Salstone is not a high achievement.”

“Maybe not, but I suspect your halo could stand a bit of burnishing.” She gave him a pointed look.

“My halo?” James let out a huff of laughter. “I’m not sure where to find that accessory.”

“ ‘The quality of mercy is not strained,’ ” Laura said, taking another tack.

He snorted. “Don’t start quoting Shakespeare at me, or you’ll lose whatever foothold you’ve gained.”

“Have I obtained a foothold?”

“A toehold, perhaps.”

“You could grant it as a favor to your new bride.”

“I don’t understand.” James looked at her quizzically. “Why do you care? Neither he nor Patricia was pleasant to you.”

“No. But I doubt that banishing her husband will endear me to your sister.”

He studied her for a long moment, then leaned back against the bench, closing his eyes and sighing. “This marriage business is more complicated than I’d imagined.”

“Do you . . . regret marrying me?” Laura was surprised at the twist of hurt inside her.

“No.” His eyes popped open and James turned his head toward her. “Not at all. I like—that is to say, I find it harder to wallow in my misery with you bedeviling me.”

“That’s good, because I’m a dab hand at bedeviling.” When he smiled as she had intended, Laura went on. “I’m not asking you to let Mr. Salstone stay so that Patricia won’t hate me. It’s for you. This creates a terrible rift between you and your sister.”

“We were never close.”

“Neither were you and I, but here we are, married. One doesn’t have to remain at odds with a person forever. I’d hate for you to be estranged from the members of your family.”

“You think I should make my peace with them before I die.”

“Well . . . yes. I do.”

He studied her warily. “You aren’t going to start hounding me now to see a clergyman and repent my sins, are you?”

“No.” She laughed. “Not that.”

“Very well. I’ll play the doting bridegroom and give Archie leave to stay.” He stood up. “But for you, not them.”



James looked around his study, feeling at loose ends. It wasn’t like him. This room, with its carefully stacked papers and precise rows of books and the battered desk that he refused to let Tessa replace, was usually where he was most at home. The rest of the house might be filled with his mother’s bright chatter and people he’d rather not see, but here it was quiet and comfortable. Welcoming.