Earl of Hearts(25)

"Thank you, m'lord!" The boy nodded and took off with it to Valor's  stall. "Look what I have for ye," he cooed to John's massive beast and  continued to stroke and compliment him while feeding him the apple.  "Ye're the finest horse I've ever seen. Perhaps the finest in all of  Scotland. But ye know it, don't ye?"

As though in response, Valor gently nudged the boy's shoulder. "Och," he  said with a genuinely merry laugh, "ye do know it. No humbleness in ye,  is there? Ye know ye're the best."

John could not recall when he had ever felt such youthful pleasure. It  seemed odd that such innocence should flourish at this inn where  everyone who stayed here harbored secrets and deceptions.

He returned to the quarters he shared with Nicola a short while later.  She'd finished her bath and was now wrapped in the slightly too big robe  that Adela Fraser had provided to her. She'd brushed out her wet hair  so that it fell down her back in a glorious, red wave. He caught the  scent of the lavender soap she'd used on her body. The fragrance  lingered in the air and blended with the steam off the bath water and  the smoke of the hickory wood fire.

By the open book of accounts on the table, he realized she had been  studying its contents while waiting for his return. "The bath water is  still warm, John."

She looked delectable.

He wanted to strip her out of her robe and haul her into the tub with  him. He'd left to cool his ardor, but he'd no sooner taken a step into  the room than it was back with full force. The thought of Nicola's  silky, pink skin, still damp from its earlier washing, had him hot and  aching.

He wanted to lift her into his arms and carry her to bed.

He would have done it, but he smelled worse than an unkempt stable,  certainly worse than Sammy Fraser or his boys. He removed his jacket and  shirt, and was about to toss them onto the settee when Nicola cleared  her throat. He'd thought she'd gone back to deciphering Somersby's book.  But she must have been slipping him glances whenever his back was  turned. "Are you still angry with me?" He wouldn't have blamed her if  she was.         

     



 

"No."

He sank onto the settee beside the clothing he'd just removed and tugged  off his boots. He wasn't certain he believed her, but anything was  better than resuming that painful discussion and hurting her feelings  again. He was glad that she'd distracted herself by attempting to  decipher the book. "Find anything interesting in there?"

She nodded. "Actually, I think I did. These entries are written in some  sort of code. That's why I couldn't make sense of them when we were  sifting through the pages last night. So we just need to figure out what  each letter represents and then we'll be able to read the words."

"I thought as much. Close your eyes."

"Why?"

"I'm about to take off my breeches. Not that I mind your looking at me, but I felt I ought to give you fair warning."

Her cheeks turned to crimson flames. "Um …  oh …  yes, I see. I'll shade my eyes and concentrate on this cipher."

"You do that." He shed the last of his clothes and sank into the tub  with an aaah. The water had cooled, but was still warm enough to soothe  the ache in his bones. Not that he was very sore, for he was used to  riding over long distances. In truth, the only part of him that ached  was his heart.

What was he going to do about Nicola?

He shook out of the thought and concentrated on washing the dirt off his  body. Since they had only the one tub, and he had no wish to impose  further on Adela's generosity by demanding a fresh bath be brought in,  he'd used the same water that Nicola had rinsed in. It was fairly clean.  And there was a full pail of fresh water beside the tub that he now  used to wash his hair.

Their clothes had absorbed most of the road dust, and although he hated  to leave them without clothing even for a few minutes, he decided to  ring for a servant to take them for a quick cleaning. "Ah, Adela  provided sandalwood for me. I was afraid I'd be forced to use one of  your scented soaps. Not that I would mind smelling like a rose. Or a  lavender cake."

"I used the lavender."

"I know," he said while scrubbing himself down. "I caught the scent of it on your skin when I walked in."

"It's divine, isn't it?" She glanced at him, realized he was naked in the tub, and hastily looked away.

He finished washing his hair and then ran his fingers through it to  brush it off his face. Sparing a look at Nicola to be sure she wasn't  peeking, he climbed out of the tub and dried himself off with one of the  large cloths Adela had directed the servants to bring in along with the  other comforts.

The woman knew her clientele and made certain to anticipate their every need.

He wrapped the cloth securely around his waist and then strode to the  bellpull to summon a servant. A young woman promptly arrived at their  door. John gave her their clothing. "See that they're freshened and  brought back to us within the hour."

She bobbed a curtsy. "Yes, m'lord."

He closed the door and turned back to Nicola.

She had the prettiest blush on her cheeks, and even from across the  room, he could see that the pulse at the base of her throat was madly  throbbing.

He strode to her side and pulled out the chair next to hers, taking a  moment to serve himself a tart and pour himself a cup of tea before  speaking. "Have you made any progress with these ciphers?"

Nicola was fidgeting like a ferret in her chair. "No. John, must you sit so close to me?"

He arched an eyebrow. "How am I to look at the book if I sit across the table from you?"

"You're naked."

He glanced down at the drying cloth that was covering all of him below  his waist. "Unless you've suddenly developed the ability to see through  fabric, I would say that I'm as well covered as you are."

"Which is hardly at all."

He ran a hand through his hair. Less than an hour ago, she was ready to  bare her heart and body to him. He supposed he'd hurt her very badly,  allowing her to believe that this would not be a forever marriage.

Their marital state would have to be permanent. Her family would never  allow him to walk away at the end of the handfasting period. Nor could  the scandal of these days and nights spent together ever be taken back.  It did not matter that they were running for their lives. It did not  matter that he'd given her no more than a kiss up to now.

Her family would insist on their remaining married for that kiss alone.  He glanced at Nicola, who was still fidgeting and whose pulse at her  throat was still throbbing.

He needed to make matters right.

He took one of her small hands in both of his, surprising her with his  touch. "I know we'd both rather avoid this topic, but I don't see how we  can. Nicola, let's start this conversation again."         

     



 

She eyed him suspiciously, but did not attempt to draw her hand away. "Which conversation?"

"The one where I left you believing that our marriage would come to an end once Somersby was brought into custody."

She emitted a ragged breath. "What are you saying? That it won't end?"

He stroked his thumb along her palm, loving the softness of her skin.  "Not unless you want it to. I won't end it. I have no desire to end it."

"You don't?" She met his gaze and held it for an endless moment. "For my sake or for yours?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, it matters very much to me."

He sighed. "For both our sakes then. This Scottish marriage won't be  recognized in England, but that makes it no less valid. I'll obtain a  special license once we cross into England. We'll be properly married  under English law as soon as possible after that."

"Wait, are you saying that you won't leave me behind in Edinburgh?" Her eyes widened in surprise as the realization sank in.

"I've decided not to."

"What changed your mind?"

A muscle twitched in his jaw. "Many reasons."

How could he explain these feelings roiling inside of him without baring  his own heart and soul? Although it had been his original plan to  deposit her with the regimental commander, he now knew that she would  never be safe until Somersby and his operation was destroyed. That vile  scum would come after her no matter how many soldiers were guarding her,  no matter how thick the walls in the regimental garrison.

If Somersby was so obsessed with doing harm to someone in Nicola's  family and using her to accomplish it-and if it was a case of vengeance,  John knew all too well how strong the tug of that could be-then  Somersby's compulsion might send him after Nicola first. Not the book of  accounts.

"Name one reason for your change of heart," Nicola said, interrupting his thoughts.

"You're mine to protect. It was a mistake on my part to believe that  you'd be safer without me." Indeed, since nobody understood hatred and  revenge better than he did, there was no one better able to protect  Nicola than him.