A Lady by Midnight (Spindle Cove #3)(61)

“You’re right, it is over,” he said. “We’ll be married today.”

Chapter Fifteen

Thorne had known all along that this would happen. He’d warned her, again and again, that if she knew him, she’d want to get as far away as possible.

He watched her now, inching toward the door, wearing an expression of pure disgust.

“Marry you? Today?” She shook her head. “You’ve gone mad. Perhaps it was the adder venom.”

“I’d never claim to be a learned man, but I have my wits about me.” He crossed the room slowly, learning his new balance with a leaden right arm. “You’ve spent the night with me. Alone. In my personal quarters.”

“But you were ill. I couldn’t leave you. I had no choice. And besides, nothing happened.” A blush touched her cheeks. “Well, almost nothing.”

A shudder went through him as he recalled the sweet flicker of her shy, velvet tongue and the soft heat of her sex. And all those naive, starry-eyed promises—offers to keep him and love him and give him a home, as if he were another stray pup she’d adopted.

Evidently, those offers were rescinded now.

He said, “You know as well as I, it doesn’t matter what did or didn’t happen. It’s what people will assume.” He hadn’t removed her from a whorehouse all those years ago just to make her look the slattern now. “We must marry. You’ve no choice.”

“Of course I have a choice. Watch me make it.” She wrenched open the door and dashed through it. He watched her disappear in the direction of the village—running with all the haste of a bat fleeing dawn.

With a wistful thought that he’d have preferred to do this with some bread and ale in his stomach, Thorne set off in pursuit. Badger happily joined the parade, ears flattened against his head.

As she hurried down the path that led from the castle bluffs to the village, she threw him a look over her shoulder. “Stop following me. I’m not marrying you, Thorne. You’re going to America. I mean to stay here in England. With my family.”

The path straightened onto a gentle downslope. Thorne forced his weary limbs into a sprint, gaining ground until he could stretch out his left hand and catch her by the arm.

Ignoring her cry of outrage, he wheeled her to face him. Her hair escaped its pins, tumbling about her shoulders in heavy waves. She stared at him, breathing hard.

He found himself equally starved for air. What was it she’d said earlier?

Rapturously stunning beyond all words and comprehension.

Yes, that about summed it up.

He said, “You need to ask yourself one important question. If that family is truly your family and they’re so very understanding . . . why did your mother never go to them? Before Simon died, why didn’t he tell anyone about his child?”

“Perhaps there wasn’t time. And like Aunt Marmoset explained, their parents never approved of their love. But Evan was only a boy then. Times are different now. These Gramercys are different. They will not abandon me.”

“What if they do? If you’re turned out of the Queen’s Ruby—and after spending the night with me, you likely will be—you’ll have no living whatsoever. How will you support yourself?”

She shrugged. “I do have friends. That may be a foreign concept to you, but there are people who will help me. Susanna and Lord Rycliff would take me in.”

“I’m certain they would. But Rycliff’s my superior officer. If I acquaint him with the circumstances, he’ll agree we must wed.”

She turned and stared out over the green-blue sea, looking desperate and forlorn. His chest ached.

“Katie,” he said, “I am trying to do the honorable thing.”

She swung a fierce glare on him. “Well, you’re a year too late!”

He knew he deserved that. “It’s unfair. I know it. You were too softhearted to leave me last night, and now you have to pay for it with your future. It’s the way of things. Acts of kindness come with costs attached.”

This was one lesson life had taught him well.

But he’d do it all again. He’d swallow an entire nest of live adders if it meant sparing her a moment’s pain.

He tried to put something soothing in his voice, rather than the usual blend of sawmill grist and impersonal authority. “Come. Let me take you home. You’re tired.”

“I am tired. Tired of secrets, tired of lies. But most of all, I’m weary of living with uncertainty, feeling pulled between two pasts, two futures. I’m going to speak with Evan and tell him everything. Exactly what happened and didn’t happen last night. I’ll tell him all about Ellie Rose and the Southwark brothel. We’re going to have this all out in the open, and then I’ll hear what he has to say.”

“Why should you trust Drewe to make the decisions? You’ve only known him a few weeks. He hasn’t—”

“I said, I’ll hear what he has to say,” she replied. “I will make my own decisions. I’ve allowed you to decide far too much ever since the Gramercys arrived in my life. I’m paying the price for it now, but I will not make the same mistake again.”

“I’ve only been—”

“Looking out for me? Oh, yes.” She spread her arms and indicated her rumpled gown. “And a fine job you’ve done of it, too.”