The Complete Marked Series Box Set by March McCarron

Author:March McCarron [McCarron, March]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-03-17T22:00:00+00:00

Arlow woke with delicious slowness. Bright morning sunlight streamed between linen curtains, illuminating his discarded shirt from the previous evening. Its sleeves twisted and splayed across the floor as if with exultation.

He stretched languorously and rolled onto his side. Mae had an attractive back, he thought. He liked the way the sunshine glanced off her bare shoulder blades, admired the dip of her spine. He traced her backbone with his forefinger.

She grunted and spoke into the fabric of her pillow, her voice too muffled to be understood.

“What was that, darling?”

She snorted at this pet name and turned her head towards him. “I said it’s too blighted early to be wakin’ me.” She made a show of yawning. “Let a spirit get some sleep.”

Her cropped, dirty-blonde hair was a perfect disaster. She glowered at him with the one eye that was not pressed to her pillow. Her scrunched, disgruntled expression was distinctly badger-like. Then she closed her eyes again, shutting him out. He grinned at her.

“You mean to sleep away such a fine morning?”

“Cold morning,” she corrected in a grumble.

“A fine morning, in a fine inn, with the company of a fine gentleman?” He spoke with obnoxious cheer, amusement glinting in his eyes.

“A fine peacock.”

“Think of all the diverting activities we might occupy ourselves with.”

“You’ll have to carry me from this bed.” She jerked the blanket up to her chin. “I ain’t rising willingly.”

“Who ever said a word about rising?” he asked with a wicked smile. “I’ve always thought it a highly overrated practice, getting out of bed.” He placed a slow kiss at the point where her jaw met her neck. She sighed, which he took for approval, and he dipped his hand beneath the blankets. “Are you certain sleep is the thing you desire?”

“You’re a real arrogant ass, you know,” she said, but a moment later she had flipped around and pressed her lips to his with newfound animation. He smiled into the kiss. It seemed he could not rid himself of it, that smile. He had likely grinned in his sleep.

He was half-tempted to tell her how tremendously happy he felt, to confess that no woman had ever done this to him before. But he shoved the notion aside at once. Instead, he set his hands to work.

“Arlow,” she breathed, “I—”

She cut herself short as the door to their room slammed open, the knob rebounding against the wall.

Arlow swore and wrenched the sheet to his lap. “What is the meaning—”

The indignation died on his tongue as he registered the entrance of a tall, foreboding man. Icy blue eyes glared down at him.

“Master Bowlerham,” the Pauper’s King said, tone inscrutable. “Sister. Always a pleasure.”

Mae yanked the blanket to cover herself, her cheeks burning a brilliant scarlet. “Linton!” she half-shouted. “What the Blighter do you think—”

“I’ve come, quite naturally,” he said, a sly smile quivering at the corner of his mouth, “to congratulate you on your impending nuptials.” He gestured to them, to their compromising position. “An untraditional order of events, but no matter.

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