She cast him a hesitant smile. "Name another reason, John."
"I won't have you shamed or made the subject of scandal. You're my wife and I mean to ensure you'll have the respect you deserve. And before you mouth off to me, which you will, because that's what you do," he continued with a grin, "I-"
"John!"
"I don't mind that you're not meek or biddable. If I wanted that, I could have chosen a wife from a dozen brainless debutantes who cared not a whit for me, but fancied my title. So, to be clear about who I want and what I want … it's you. Forever."
"Forever," she said in a whisper and released her breath in a frail shudder. But her lips began to twitch and tip upward in an almost smile. "That's quite the ardent confession. My head is spinning. I think I might swoon."
He winced. "I'm hardly one of those romantic poets who happen to be all the rage in London at the moment."
"No, not even close." She finally did smile, although hesitantly. "Thank you, John."
He did not deserve her gratitude. She was the one who was saving him from a life of angry solitude. She was the one who gave him hope that his life might become something more than a quest for revenge.
He released her hand to wolf down the last of the light repast sitting on a tray on the table. Nicola had eaten a little, probably not enough. He'd order a full supper brought to them later tonight.
He then drank his cup of tea, slogging it back as though it were a pint of ale. "Let's have a closer look at those pages. How are you at breaking codes?"
"I don't know. I've never tried before." But to someone with a mind as agile as Nicola's, he had no doubt she'd catch on quickly. "But before we start, there's something I must ask."
He nodded. "Go on."
"I couldn't help but notice the scars on your back. How did you get them? They look old."
"It doesn't matter. They aren't important."
Nicola must have caught the angry rise in his voice. She edged back in her chair, more irritated with him than intimidated by his scowl. "Not important? Something so trivial, you've forgotten all about it? I suppose those scars are what turned you into the jovial, outgoing man you are today. A Johnny-good-times. Always laughing. Always filled with good cheer for one and all."
"It's none of your business, Nicola."
She shook her head and sighed. "Fine. You'll tell me when you feel the time is right. Perhaps later this evening, after you take me to bed and we perform our expected mating dance, spawning like frenzied salmon in-"
"Bollocks! Who puts these ideas into your head?" He rose and strode across the room to stand before the fire blazing in the hearth. That's how hot his anger burned for those who had destroyed his family. But it was also how hot his desire burned for Nicola.
The blasted girl had a rapier-sharp mind and just as sharp a tongue. He liked that about her, but at times-such as now-he wished she was a simpleton. Lord, she knew just how to rile him. He wanted to be angry with her, but instead, he threw his head back and laughed. "Spawning like salmon? Where did you hear such nonsense?"
"In one of those scandalous novels no innocent young woman is ever supposed to read. But I think the author misused the term. Spawning one's eggs is what happens to a female fish after the act of … you know."
"The frenzied mating."
She nodded. "You do want that, don't you, John? I mean, if we're to have a real marriage. Is that what you had in mind when agreeing to a forever union between us? Because if it isn't, then perhaps we ought to rethink the matter."
He tossed another log onto the fire and watched the flames intensify. "No need to rethink. I'm … bollocks. I'm all in."
CHAPTER 11
NICOLA WASN'T CERTAIN how she went from running for her life to jumping into bed with the one man she'd loved all her life. John had just told her that he was not going to end their Scottish marriage, that he was going to make it official as soon as they reached England. He was keeping her with him all the way to London, and keeping her with him forever afterward.
Before this night was through, he was going to take her innocence. At least, she hoped this is what he intended. For now, they were concentrating on the entries in the ledger and trying to decipher their meaning. Some were obviously numbers representing amounts paid or amounts owed. But the portions describing plans or listing names of buyers and shippers and goods transported were in an alphabetic code that made no sense. "Where are we to start, John?"
She tried to concentrate on the pages and not his body leaning so close to hers that she caught the scent of sandalwood on his golden skin. Although they were not touching, she felt a delicious heat radiating off him. "We look for words that seem to be repeating. Like these." He pointed to several on the page that used the same letters. "These are four letters long. Maybe they represent the word ‘lord' since most of the buyers of contraband merchandise are likely to be wealthy individuals who demand quality goods and don't care if there is a war going on or that those goods must be smuggled into England."
Nicola pointed to the sheet of parchment she'd asked the maid to fetch for her and nodded. "Oh, I see. So once we're certain those ciphers represent L-O-R-D, then we can go through the page and figure out the rest of the ciphers. We can set up a coding chart on this blank paper. What if the sentences are written in French?"
John gave a snorting laugh. "Somersby spent his university days drinking and womanizing. His father had to step in to keep him from being tossed out of Oxford on his ear. I doubt he'll be so clever as to use a foreign language."
"Very well. I suppose it will become obvious to us soon enough." She set the book sideways so that they could both have a clear view of the pages. "Let me see if I can figure out this page. You work on the other page. This is so interesting." Almost interesting enough to make her forget that a barely clad John, his muscled shoulders and broad chest spiking her heartbeat to dangerous proportions, was seated within a hair's breadth of her.
John smiled at her, giving her one of the softest smiles she'd ever seen on him. His rare smiles were often polite and forced, and they looked more pained than heartfelt. But this one was different. It was a let-down-all-defenses smile that warmed her heart as nothing else could.
He arched an eyebrow. "You are looking at me as though I'm a strawberry cake topped with sweet cream."
"I can't help it. You're handsome and naked and seated so close to me that I can feel the little fuzzy hairs on your arm tickle along my skin. I'm washed and well-fed and working on something important for the Crown. This is my idea of heaven. If it weren't for a crazed beast ransacking the Highlands in search of us, I think this would count as one of the happiest days of my life. It will count as the happiest if you were to take me to that bed," she said, glancing at the large four-poster situated right behind her.
"If?" His smile turned appealingly wicked.
She cleared her throat and nodded. "I did not wish to presume that you would … you know."
"Frenzied mating?"
She laughed. "Yes, you wretch."
He cupped her chin and gave it a tweak. "Let's get back to deciphering these pages."
Heat shot into her cheeks. "Of course, that's far more important. And there's no rush for the other thing, nor must we even think of doing such a thing when this is far more … "
"Important?"
She nodded vehemently. "I'm sorry that I got distracted. I suppose I'll never make a good agent for the Crown."
"Nicola, you're about to blow apart a smuggling operation that extends throughout Europe. I believe the culprits behind this scheme are using the proceeds from these smuggled goods to incite a rebellion that threatens the existence of the monarchy. Somersby is involved up to his eyeballs. Overthrow of the monarchy is really what he's interested in accomplishing. The smuggling operation is only a small part of it."
"It is?"
He nodded. "He means to bring down the king and turn England over to French control. Likely, he will then betray the French and keep England for himself, for he has the highest opinion of himself. But he made the unfortunate mistake of bringing you into his web of schemes. I don't know who in your family he means to destroy, but I have no doubt he is regretting his plan."
"I hope so."
"I know he is, for his means of acquiring the wealth and weaponry to accomplish his grand scheme is written down in this little book. It is in my hands because of you." He cast her an affectionate smile. "You will be a legend among the agents of the Crown, assuming we manage to decipher it. I know we will."