Married on a Wicked Morning by Sandra Sookoo

Author:Sandra Sookoo
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Regency romance, romantic suspense, intrigue, mystery, murder, con artist, relic, treasure hunting, art, aristocrat, earl, Thieves of the Ton series, series romance, explorer, second chance at love
Publisher: New Independence Books
Published: 2017-03-14T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Emmaline swallowed a few times to stave off the urge to retch.

“Did you always plan to play me for the fool, Emmy?” Fear echoed beyond the anger woven into his tone, and that broke her heart. “Did you consider me a mark upon meeting me? Had designs on the pieces you saw in my library?”

“No!” Her hands shook so badly that she clasped them together on her lap, but the tremors merely transferred themselves to the rest of her body. “No to all counts.” She wetted her lips and looked at him, but he refused to meet her gaze. “Becoming reacquainted with you was a defining point in my life. I don’t care about your possessions.” Hysterical tears rose in her throat and she madly swallowed them. “I only wanted you.”

“Yet you show your regard in this way.” Miles trained his gaze on her. Icy tendrils of despair wrapped around her spine at the confusion and anger warring for dominance there. “I have no words at the moment, Emmaline. To think you had this intelligence, knowing how devastating and dangerous it could be, and you still remained quiet about it.”

“How could I have known? In fact, I had forgotten about the painting until you brought the subject up of the first missing Bellini. Then those forgotten pockets of memories surfaced and we were fully engaged in trying to hook Georgiana. I couldn’t tell you then.” She shook her head. “The current situation isn’t ideal, but—”

“No, it’s not,” he interrupted in a tone that was every inch the earl. He returned his attention to the window. The sunlight streaming over his skin threw the tiny lines at the corners of his eyes into sharp relief, while the hard set to his lips invited no further conversation.

He said nothing else on the short ride back to his townhouse—their home. Neither did she, and all too soon the carriage rocked to a halt in front of the residence.

“Miles.” Emmaline leaned forward and laid a hand on his knee. His body tensed, and he once more met her gaze. “Please believe me when I tell you I’m so, so sorry.” Tears crowded her throat. Her stomach trembled with guilt. The babe must have felt her anxiety, for its flutters increased.

“Be that as it may, I am in no mood to continue this discussion at the moment.” He glanced at the door as it swung open and the footman lowered the steps. “I am going to White’s. When I come back, we are going to retrieve that painting from wherever it is.”

She nodded in agreement even as her heart screamed at him for understanding. “It’s in Kent, on your estate.”

“Oh, perfect. A half day of travel ahead of us, barring no complications.” He spat out the words as if they were distasteful. Miles pinned her with a look that sent tears springing into her eyes. “Get out.”

“Miles—”

Her attempt to explain was once more interrupted. “Enough.” He waved a hand. “Go inside and pack for an overnight stay.

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