Stranger in My Arms(46)

I won’t rest until I find out what I want to know. If necessary, I’ll personally tour every prison I can find.”

“I’ll be damned if you’ll set foot in even one of them.”

“You can’t stop me!”

They glared at each other, and Lara felt herself turn scarlet with a mounting rage that seemed out of proportion to the situation. If only she hadn’t learned what it was like to live without a husband, if only she hadn’t experienced the heady feeling of making her own decisions after he had left for India, then she might have been able to accept his judgment. But now the idea of being controlled and curtailed and forbidden to do something made her livid. Terrible words rose to her lips-she wished he were back in India, or at the bottom of the sea, or any other place than in the same room with her. Somehow she kept silent, the effort making her eyes sting with furious tears.

She heard Hunter’s low voice. “Lara. You’re too precious for me to let you risk one hair on your head.

So rather than tying you to a bedpost to ensure that you don’t visit any damned prisons… I have a proposition for you.”

Bewildered by his sudden tenderness, Lara lowered her head and concentrated on drawing invisible circles across the surface of her skirts. “Whatever your proposition involves, I am not going to wear that negligee again.”

He reached over to squeeze her thigh. “Here’s the bargain, my love…

I’ll get the information you require, but in the meantime you’re not to go near Holbeach or any place like it.

And when I find out what you wish to know, you won’t take action of any kind without consulting me.”

Lara looked up and opened her mouth to argue.

“I didn’t object when you told me that Johnny was going to live with us,” he reminded her. “You took matters into your own hands without saying a word to me. I chose not to stand in your way because I understood how badly you wanted to keep the boy.

In the future, however, we’ll act as partners.

Agreed?”

Lara was hardly able to believe that Hunter Cameron Crossland, the sixth Earl of Hawksworth, had proposed being partners with her. He had always made it clear that she was nothing more than an extension of him, an appendage… a possession.

“Agreed,” she murmured, and shot him a suspicious glance. “What are you smiling at?”

“You.” He surveyed her with a look of masculine interest that was rapidly becoming familiar. The lazy smile remained on his lips. “I’ll wager that everyone who knows you considers you to be soft, sweet, and accommodating. But you’re not.”

“What am I, then?”

Hunter’s hand slid behind her neck, and he urged her forward until their lips were almost touching.

Lara felt the warm touch of his breath, and her stomach turned over in excitement. “You’re a lioness,” he said, and released her without kissing her… leaving her to grapple with an absurd sense of disappointment.

The hallway echoed with the sounds of a child whimpering in frustration. Hunter’s steps slowed. He paused in the arched opening, staring around the columns set against the wall. The boy was there, huddling on the floor with his back wedged in the corner.

He wasn’t crying, but he sniffled as if tears were imminent, and his cheeks were red. He stared up at Hunter and tugged nervously at his shorn black hair.

“Why are you sitting there?” Hunter asked in vague irritation, having no experience with children, or any understanding of their needs and wants.

“I’m lost,” the child said miserably.

“Why isn’t someone with you?” There should have been someone appointed to watch over the boy. God knew what sort of mischief he could get into.

When that question elicited no response, Hunter tried another. “Where do you want to go?”

The tiny points of his shoulders moved beneath his oversized shirt as he shrugged. “I ‘as to piss.”

Hunter’s mouth twitched in reluctant sympathy.

“Can’t find the privy? Well, I’ll take you to one.

Come with me.”

“I can’t walk.”

“I’ll carry you, then. But you’d best hold your water, I’m warning you.” Gingerly Hunter picked up the mite and headed down the hallway.

His load was surprisingly light. What strange eyes the boy had, a shade of blue so pure and dark it appeared to be violet.

“Are you married to milady?” Johnny asked, linking his arms around Hunter’s neck.

“Yes.”

“When I get big, I’m going to marry ‘er.”

“She can’t be married to two men at the same time,” Hunter replied, amused. “What will you do with me?”

“You can stay ‘ere,” the boy offered generously.

“If milady wants it.”

Hunter grinned into the small, serious face that was so close to his.

“Thank you.”

Johnny glanced downward as they walked.

“You’re tall,” he said. “Even taller than my papa.”

The remark sparked Hunter’s interest. “Tell me, bratchet… why was your father hanged?”

“‘E was a bug ‘unter, Papa was. ‘E killed someone, but ‘twas an accident.”