“brought on this sudden change of heart? One hour ago you were claiming we did not suit and throwing dinner plates at my head.”
“I may have a bit of a temper,” she acknowledged stiffly. “But you got no less then you deserved, courting me under false pretenses and marrying me just to get at my dowry! They have names for men like you, you know.”
“And what,” he said, gracing her with a slow, wolfish smile, “would those names be?”
Biting her lip, Margaret did her best to ignore the little pitter patter of her heart. Damn the man, but he was quite charming when he wanted to be. “A rogue and a scoundrel,” she said, trying her hardest to appear stern.
“Aye,” he admitted without batting an eyelash. “I am both of those and more. Still care to get to know each other?”
“If I do, can I ride Finnegan?”
“Absolutely not.”
“You will let me eventually,” she predicted.
Henry scowled. “You will never sit on that horse again, Margaret.”
We shall see about that , she thought. Gently easing her legs from beneath Henry’s head she swung off the bed, stretched, and crossed to the doorway.
“Where are you going?” he asked, sitting up with a frown.
“To get something to eat from the kitchen. I am starved.”
“Yes, well. I will see you in the morning. What time is breakfast usually served?” he asked.
Only then did Margaret realize that for the first time she and Henry would be sleeping together under the same roof. For some inexplicable reason the very idea caused her cheeks to burn bright red. “Um,” she said, pausing half in and half out of the hall. “Half past seven, I believe.”
“Half past seven?” Henry stood up and stretched his long arms high above his head, pulling the hem of his shirt free from the waistband of his breeches to reveal a hint of the coiled muscle that lay beneath. “That’s a rather ungodly hour, isn’t it?”
“Then don’t get up!” Margaret snapped. The instant the words were out she clapped a hand to her mouth and darted out the door, stopping only long enough to kick it closed behind her. She made it halfway to her room before she had to stop and lean up against the wall. Laying the palms of her hands flat against the cool plaster she closed her eyes and drew in a deep, lingering breath to soothe her frazzled nerves.
Well that had certainly not gone how she had predicted. Who would have thought her husband was so… so… so bloody charming ? And witty. And kind. And a very, very excellent kisser.
Again she touched her lips, tracing them with a fingertip as she remembered how it had felt to have the length of Henry’s body pushed snug against her own. To have his mouth on her mouth. His tongue dancing with her tongue. His hands… Her eyes flew open. Dear heavens, what was she thinking ?
Henry was a rogue of the worst sort! He had run off with her dowry.
Something he has not only apologized for, but made up ten fold , said a sly little voice.
He threatened to shoot Poppy!
Only because you threw a plate at his head. Besides, he didn’t mean it. People say all sorts of things when they are angry… Don’t they, Margaret?
He abandoned me!
He left to earn you a fortune and thought you were living in the lap of luxury in his absence. Is it his fault his accountant is a lily livered snake?
He only married me for my money.
Margaret waited for the little voice to contradict her, but this time there was only silence. Troubled, she walked slowly to her room and locked the door behind her.
CHAPTER SIX
As summer gave way to fall and the nights grew cooler, the days shorter and the leaves began to change their colors, the Duke and Duchess of Heathridge began a slow, fumbling courtship of sorts.
With the mutual goal of restoring Heathridge to its former glory, the two worked closely side by side and soon fell into a comfortable routine.
Margaret tended to the stables in the morning – something she refused to