The Perfect Match (Blue Heron #2)(69)

He sat there, trying to ignore the little ankle-biter, who now had his pants in her tiny teeth. “Come on now,” he said, reaching down and scooping up the dog. “Let’s be friends, what do you say?”

Spike sank her teeth into his thumb. “Piss off, Ratty,” he said. He set her on the floor and went to the sink to rinse off the blood. Ridiculous little dog. He should get a proper mutt who’d hopefully teach her some manners.

Picking the nasty little baggage up but keeping his hand on her neck so she couldn’t twist around and bite him again, he carried her upstairs, opened Honor’s bedroom door and set the dog on the bed, where the precious thing continued to snarl at him, sounding more like a rabid hedgehog than a real threat.

It smelled nice in here. Lemony. Neat as a pin, and looking very much as he’d had it, thanks to her paranoia about being discovered. While some of her clothes were in Tom’s room, there wasn’t room enough for all of them. He opened a drawer to find out.

Rather nice panties, he thought. Pink here, black-and-white polka dots there. Matching bras. Hello there. The woman who dressed like a modern-day Puritan had quite lovely knickers. Almost slutty, in fact, and wasn’t that a plus in the marital column?

Yark! Yark!

Ratty was back, gnawing on his ankle. “You know, Ratty, for a squirrel, you’re a right pain in the arse,” he said. “Enjoy your solitude.”

With that, he closed the door behind him, ignoring the scrabbling paws against the door. Back downstairs. No bleeding on the ankle, as the dog’s teeth appeared to have gone straight into the bone marrow instead.

He finished his whiskey. Poured another one and drank half of that.

The door opened, and in came his bride-to-be. “Darling,” he said. “Where’ve you been?”

“We were shopping for a wedding dress.”

Bloody hell. “Do we really need to go all out?” he asked, turning to survey her. She looked...good. Irritatingly so.

“We should talk about that.” She was blushing. “It was pointed out to me that my family expects something a little bigger than just you and me and a justice of the peace.”

“Are you becoming a bridezilla, Honor?”

“No. I’m just saying that I have a family to consider. And also, maybe it’d be more convincing if we had a real wedding. With a dress and flowers and all that. And by the way, the shopping wasn’t for me. It was for Mrs. Johnson.” She paused. “But I made an appointment for myself.” Her face grew even redder.

“Shall we see if Pippa Middleton is free to be your bridesmaid, in case your sisters aren’t enough?”

“Why are you in a mood?”

“Your dog bit me. Twice.”

“Poor baby.”

“Thanks.”

“I meant her. Where is she, by the way?”

“I ate her.” She waited. “She’s in your room.”

“What? I told you she has to have run of the house. She’ll pee if she’s locked up.”

“She gets more appealing every minute, doesn’t she?”

Honor went upstairs and returned with Ratty, who was pretending to be sweet and demure, her head tucked under Honor’s chin. “She’s a rescue, Tom. You can’t shut her away. It makes her anxious.”

“I just told you, she kept biting me.”

“She weighs five pounds.”

“And her teeth are like needles.”

“Man-up.”

He raised an eyebrow. She raised one, as well.

The phone rang. Tom took another sip of his drink and stared at his bride-to-be. She looked good. Better than good. Flushed and pretty and a little irritable, too, her eyes flashing. He felt the start of a smile, and the irritating dog growled.

The phone rang again, and Honor sighed and answered it. “Hello? Excuse me?” Her expression changed. “Oh! Hi, Mr. Barlow! How are you? It’s Honor.”

“Give it to me,” Tom said, holding his hand out. “I’ll take it.”

She didn’t obey, the cheeky thing. “Honor Holland? Your son’s fiancée?” she said. “Oh, he didn’t?” She leveled a glare at him. “Shoot, I’m sorry. I thought you knew.”

“Great,” Tom said. His father would be over the bloody moon about this. Rather a pathetic romantic, Dad was.

“No, it was pretty sudden.... Oh, sure. He’s so, so wonderful.”

“Give me the phone,” Tom ordered again. Again, she didn’t listen. Was that still a part of wedding vows? Love, honor and obey?

“What made me fall in love with him?” She rolled her eyes. “Gosh, that’s really hard to say.”

“Just tell him the truth,” Tom said, taking a step closer. “I’m great in the sack. Give me the phone, Honor.”

“It was probably his love of animals,” she said.

“All right, that’s enough,” he said, pinning her against the counter and prying the phone from her hand. God, she smelled good. The dog snarled and bit his sleeve, but Tom stayed put, rather enjoying having Honor trapped against him. “Hello, Dad.”

“Son! You sly devil!” Hugh Barlow’s voice was filled with joy. “When did this all happen?”

“Dad, I wanted to be the one to tell you, but Honor’s so delighted, she can’t keep the news to herself,” Tom said. “She’s crazy about me.”