She nodded. "With nothing to do."
He grinned. "We'll think of something to occupy our time. Edgeware will send word once it's safe for us to return to London."
"Life will seem quite tame after this."
"I know, brat." He ran his knuckles across her cheek in a gentle caress. "But we'll be married. And since we're both stubborn and opinionated, I'm sure life will not be all that quiet for us."
She laughed softly. "I'll do my best to make certain it never gets dull. Nor will I truly rest easy until Somersby and his band of ruffians are captured and brought to trial."
"They will be. Prinny and Edgeware will make certain of it. But there's something else." He cleared his throat. "I intended to hold off mentioning it until after our wedding, but I think you ought to know. I don't want any secrets between us."
Was he going to mention Selena? Admit they were more than fellow agents?
"The night my parents died … "
Nicola's heart tugged. Of course, this wasn't about Selena. John was the Earl of Hearts. One love. One woman.
He took a deep breath. "I vowed to avenge their deaths. I will not break that vow."
She didn't quite understand his point, so she kept silent and simply nodded to encourage him to continue.
"I've been investigating that crime for years now and haven't turned up a single clue as to the identity of their killer."
"I'm so sorry, John. That beast put those scars on you, didn't he?"
He nodded. "I don't care about those. What I care about is the conspiracy of silence that's surrounded their murders. I think the royal family knows who did it. I think Prinny is ready to tell me now. That's the reward I will ask of him, assuming there is any reward offered. That's the truth I will demand from him."
Now she understood. "Then you will go off and kill this man. You won't seek a trial. You will be his judge and executioner."
"Justice will be done."
She cupped his cheek in her hand, needing to touch him as she spoke. His pain was so evident, it shattered her heart. But that pain would not allow him to think clearly on this extremely important matter. "John, why would Prinny suddenly do this after all these years of silence? Be careful. Things may not be as they seem."
He drew away from her side and began to pace in front of her. "What are you suggesting?"
"The Prince Regent knows that if he gives you a name, that man will be dead before the week is out. What if he gives you the wrong name? What if he and the royal family are merely using you as an unwitting assassin?"
"I'd know if they were. That man's face is etched into my nightmares. I see the burning evil in his eyes. I see his vile grin as he wields his knife. I hear his demented laughter. He showed my parents no mercy." His voice began to shake with anger and so did his hands. "I've said enough." He crossed to the table and poured himself a glass of wine from the bottle remaining from their supper.
He gulped down its contents in one swallow and was about to pour himself another when Nicola came to his side and took his hands in hers. "Leave it, John. I know how painful reliving those moments must be for you. Wine won't dull your pain."
He glanced at the bottle and then shrugged. "Those memories go away when I'm drunk."
"Always?"
"No. Sometimes they do."
"But they come roaring back when you're sober again."
"What's your point?"
"Your pain is not about being drunk or sober. Indeed, I've rarely seen you drink more than a pint of ale or a glass of wine. I doubt you drink when on assignment unless you're trying to fool someone, in which case, you probably spill the contents of your glass into a potted fern or some such useful vessel. This is about your thirst for revenge. Plain and simple."
"You won't talk me out of it." He frowned at her, obviously angry. "Beg out of the marriage if you want. But I'm going to kill that man as soon as Prinny gives me his name."
"I can't beg out. Not that I would ever want to. I love you. I could be carrying your child, for all we know. And if I am, then why are you determined to do the stupidest thing imaginable?"
"I made a vow and I'm going to see it through." His eyes were still blazing, but she knew him well enough to understand that her words had struck home.
"To whom did you make this vow? To yourself in memory of your parents? The best revenge is not administering death. The best revenge is happiness. Your happiness." She ignored his continued glower and put her hands on his shoulders. She felt the ripples of tension coursing through him like a dangerous ocean undercurrent. "Do you think your parents want you to be just like the man who took their lives? Or do you think they want to look down from heaven and see you holding your own son in your arms and smiling with joy?"
"Damn it, Nicola. I didn't ask for your opinion."
"Yes, you did. When you took me into your heart the first time you kissed me. When you gave me your heart the first time we … you know."
Despite his obvious turmoil, he managed a grin. "Made love?"
She cleared her throat. "Yes. That. And when you confided in me just now. You wanted me to talk you out of it. Deep in your heart, you know it isn't right. This isn't who you want to be."
He stared at her for the longest time, his hunter-predator eyes boring into her. "You think our first child will be a son?"
She laughed as she let out the breath she'd been holding. "Or a daughter. There's a solid chance it will be one or the other."
"I'll think about what you said." He took her in his arms and held her in a remarkably gentle embrace. "Let's go to bed. We have a wedding to go to in a couple of hours."
"You still want to marry me?" She had forced these horrid and bitter memories out of him, and he couldn't be pleased with her right now. But he'd kept his heart wrapped in darkness for too long. It was time for him to heal.
"Yes. Even more so now." He scooped her into his arms and carried her to bed. "But you're still an irritating brat."
CHAPTER 17
THE CHAPEL WAS a beautiful, stone structure with stained glass windows and graceful archways, but there was no heat in the place, so Nicola was glad she'd worn the plain woolen gown John had purchased for her on their first day on the run. Perhaps some of the new purchases would arrive for her today, but her only choices when dressing this morning had been this sturdy, brown wool or the delicate, beaded silk she'd worn at Somersby's lodge.
There was no question.
She was never going to wear that silk gown again.
"You look lovely," the Duke of Edgeware said, seemingly sincere as he politely bowed over her hand. But his gaze was sharp and assessing, no doubt trying to figure out what charm she held for John, for it could not have been apparent.
John said nothing, looking more like a man who just wanted to get this nuisance of a wedding out of the way. But when it came time to exchange their vows, he took her hand in his and his gaze turned soft and tender. "I take thee, Nicola Jennifer Emory … "
His voice held steady and there was no hesitation as he repeated the holy vows.
She did the same.
When the brief ceremony was over, the witness registry signed, and Edgeware off to London, John grinned at her. "You're Lady Bainbridge now. Legal. Official. Unbreakable. How does it feel, brat?"
"As though I ought to be wearing a lorgnette and looking down my nose at everyone." She shook her head and laughed. "I didn't think it would feel different from our Scottish handfasting, but it does. I'm respectable according to English law. It is truly final and irrevocable. But it feels good, John. It feels very good."
"Mutual, brat," he said and kissed her lightly on the nose. "Now, to get us back to the inn without being seen."
She sensed the moment his demeanor shifted from doting husband to hunter-predator again. Well, John was never the sort to dote. A smile. A squeeze of the hand. Those little gestures were the equivalent of fawning over her. But at night, when he took her in his arms, she knew he loved her.
What would these next few days bring? They weren't like most newlyweds. There would be no wedding breakfast. There would be no family around to congratulate them. There might be a lot of lovemaking since they'd be confined to the inn for days. She couldn't be sure, for John was just as likely to behave like a caged tiger, growling and pacing, and wearing a hole through the carpet.
"The sun's up," John muttered, regaining her attention.
She glanced up at the blue sky and the sun glistening off the sea. The waves and whitecaps, visible from the church steps, shone like silver. The harbor was filled with ships of all sizes, their masts still and bells lightly clanging with the ebb and flow of the water.