The Bastard's Iberian Bride by Alina K. Field

Author:Alina K. Field
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Havenlock Press
Published: 2017-05-04T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17

A s a husband, Bink Gibson was proving to be a puzzle, one she was struggling to solve. He played many characters—bluff yeoman, shrewd steward, fierce warrior, skilled lover.

No. That last wasn’t a character. That was truly him. He’d been crafty enough turning her own plan to seduce a promise out of him into a ravishment.

Heat rose in her face, and she shifted on her seat, her foot hitting one of the two hampers of food Bink had insisted on. They’d not stopped except to change horses and replenish those hampers.

Thankfully, the two maids slept, giving Paulette time to think. The pace of this grueling trip made them collapse, almost immediately, but she could not sleep, not after her wedding night, not after what she’d discovered.

And what was that, Paulette?

Warmth curled in her heart, warmth that felt like joy.

Or could it be love? She pushed it down. She had no sense of how such feelings could last, and perhaps she had no right. They’d married for money, hadn’t they?

Besides, Gibson was being obstinate, and she didn’t entirely trust him. He’d promised they’d talk about going to London, but after one more round of lovemaking, she’d awakened alone in her bed and found Mabel and Jenny mopping up brandy and packing her bag for a hasty departure.

Word had come, in the person of two hard-riding Greencastle grooms. Spellen had gone missing, Agruen was bound for London, and cavalry was advancing on Manchester. Her husband had shared the news during their hurried breakfast, and promised they’d talk about London later, after he’d brought her safely to Greencastle.

Perhaps he thought when they reached Hackwell’s estate, he would talk, and she would listen. Perhaps he thought he would lock her up with Lord and Lady Hackwell, or transport her to Cransdall.

He could try.

She leaned against the squab, wriggled her aching bottom, and let her eyes drift shut. They’d not stopped the night, nor would they, and each change she managed to stay awake for taught her something new. She’d learned much on this trip about traveling, about inns, about the coaching system. Her funds would hold her until London.

Outside, a low conversation rumbled, audible, but not understandable. Their numbers had swollen to include the two new Hackwell grooms, ex-soldiers Mabel had learned, and Kincaid’s two Scotsmen. And Bink had tied her knife’s sheath to her arm. If need be, go for something soft, he’d said. The belly, the kidneys, the eye.

The eye. The thought made her insides squirm, and she scolded herself. Jock had told her the same thing, years ago, when he’d tutored her. And she must not be squeamish. Her mama hadn’t been, Jock had said. If it came to it, she would defend herself and her maids.

She must stay awake. She must at least try. The ache of her bones, the prospect of a fight, the plots to be made about escaping to London, all kept her on edge. A day, a night, and another day—if her husband could stay awake seated atop a horse, so could she in this plush coach.

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