Eloping with the Princess (Brotherhood of the Sword #3)(32)

“I don’t see how people believing I love her will make a difference,” Jason said.

“You said you married for her protection?” his mother asked.

“Yes, it is a long story, but suffice it to say, some very bad men wanted her to marry someone else. This”—he motioned to the space between him and Isabel—“prevented her from being such an attractive target to them.”

“How altruistic of you, Jason,” his mother said wryly.

“Mother, the situation is quite serious,” Jason said.

Still Isabel said nothing, keeping her eyes from landing on anyone else in the room.

“Even more reason that you must make a show of being more familiar with each other. You don’t appear to be in love,” she said. “You need to gaze at her more. Look at her, she’s lovely.”

Jason nodded absently, but his mother gave him that look that told him in no uncertain terms that she was quite serious. He exhaled and glanced at Isabel.

Her eyes were still cast downward, and he could plainly see that she was not accustomed to being the center of anyone’s attention, let alone their conversation. His mother could have brought all of this to his attention when they were alone.

“Yes, Mother, Isabel is quite beautiful, but I don’t believe anyone will deny that. And I think this entire conversation is making her quite uncomfortable.”

“Isabel, am I making you uncomfortable?” his mother asked.

“Actually, yes. Quite uncomfortable. I never intended to be a burden on anyone,” Isabel said.

“Nonsense,” his mother said. “You are not a burden. We merely have some issues to work around, ’tis all. I think I speak for all of us when I say that we want to keep you safe, my dear.”

“Thank you,” she said. Isabel looked up and met Jason’s gaze. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed.

“This doesn’t have to be overly complicated,” his mother said. “Jason, my dear, do you recall how your father and I would interact, how he would look at me? Do you remember how he would place his hand on my back as I’d walk beside him? Or the way I would touch his arm as we’d talk? That is how couples behave toward each other.”

“It is not appropriate for even married couples to be overly affectionate in public,” he said. But even as he said the words, he knew she was right. No one would believe their marriage legitimate, because he barely looked at her, let alone touched her in the familiar way a husband would. They had to appear more comfortable with each other. This entire conversation echoed Somersby’s crude concerns. There was no point in Jason having married Isabel if he wasn’t going to do this in a way that kept her completely safe.

“What do you suggest?” Jason asked.

“Practice,” his mother said. “Dance a few times, walk together, look at each other.” She came to her feet. “The ball is in two days, so I suggest you start working.”

Jason stood also. “Let me escort you out, Mother.”

He led her forward. “Do not think for a moment that I don’t know what you are up to,” he whispered.

“Whatever do you mean?” she asked.

“This thinly veiled attempt at matchmaking.”

She put a hand to her chest. “Honestly, Jason, how could I possibly matchmake with an already married couple?”

He shook his head.

“Regardless of all my motives, you know I am right. If she is truly in danger, you must convince everyone you are a real couple,” she said. Then she strode quickly down the corridor, leaving them alone, surrounded by silence and too many shades of lavender.

“I’m sorry,” Isabel said, her voice quiet.

He turned to face her. “For what?”

“Making you marry me, and all of this.” She spread her arms out as if to encompass the room. She stood and went to a window but didn’t bother to pull the curtain aside.

“Isabel, let me explain what it is I do. I am a member of the Brotherhood of the Sword, an ancient organization specifically created to keep the monarch of England safe. Marrying you and thus preventing those who would have you play a role in taking the Crown from Queen Victoria is the very essence of my duty. There is no need to apologize. We might not have married under the most ordinary circumstances, but I do not begrudge you this, nor do I blame you.”

She inclined her head. She was quiet a moment before asking, “Do you believe she’s right? What your mother said about how we should appear to others?”

“Yes, I suspect she is.”

“What do we do about that?” Isabel asked.

“We should practice.” To hell with the practice, he wanted nothing more than to bring her upstairs and consummate this damned marriage. But he knew that once he touched her, there would be no turning back.





Chapter Eight


Practice? What did he mean by that?

Isabel eyed him cautiously, waiting for him to explain himself. Could he possibly mean that he was going to consummate their marriage? She couldn’t very well ask him such a thing, though, so she merely nodded in response. But inside her, nerves sprang to life. A thousand butterflies took flight and flapped against her midriff.

He stepped over to her, close enough that she could smell the scent of his soap and shaving lotion, sandalwood, and earthiness. Close enough to see the soft waves of his brown hair and know that, were she to reach up to tousle it, it would be impossibly soft. Close enough to see the gold flecks that hid in the blue of his eyes. He was so handsome.