Archie shook his head. “She’s shy and… thirsty.”
“Thirsty for yourkisses!” She giggled and smacked Archie’s shoulder. “She likes you, and you’re thick-headed enough that you probably missed it.”
“I’m not thick-headed.” But he had missed it—the blushing and mouth-looking. “I’m not going anywhere near her. She’s a marchioness, Sammy, and married.”
“But she won’t be forever.” Samantha patted his arm, more gently this time. “You’re good at arguing, so I assume you’re good at your job.”
His brows furrowed. “Thank you?”
“You’re welcome. You’ll win the case, and she won’t be married or a marchioness anymore.”
But she’ll be gone.She’d told him about her intention to move to America once the trial ended, and he could never leave Yorkshire. He had no more chance of having Marigold as his now than he did once she was divorced. He could convince himself what he felt for her was lust, but seeing her with his family carved her into the bedrock of his existence.
But that dangerous line of thought was cut off when his mother emerged from her room, Marigold on her tail with a bundle of clothing in her arms. While she still wore her shirtwaist and his mother’s coarse wool skirt from earlier, her hair was down now, braided in a long plait that hung over one shoulder.
This was the woman he’d met at the party, the Marigold who loved bees and caramels, the woman confident enough to approach a stranger to rescue an insect. The woman he’d fallen in love with.
The thought punched the air from his lungs, and he pressed his hand to his sternum, as though he could convince his heart of theabsurdity of the notion. Loving Marigold? He may as well love the sun itself for all the chance he had of keeping her for himself.
“There’s bread left from dinner,” he said. “Would you like a piece with some of the honey you stole?”
Marigold smirked, and his heart swelled. “Stole? The bees shared.”
Not a single stutter. Further proof she belonged there. “I’ll leave that up to the bees to decide.” He grinned.
By the time they had settled outside on a rocking bench, pieces of sticky bread in their hands, the sky had gone black, brilliant stars breaking through the inky darkness to form dancing patterns across the heavens.
“Have you thought about the marquess’ offer?”
She shuddered, her spine curling in on itself. He hated how the mere mention of the man could shrink her. “Yes. The wise decision would be to accept.”
Something in his chest wailed, thrashed wildly in dismay. Just when he realized he loved her, he was losing her. “Why is it the wise decision?” he managed.
“I’ll have what I wanted.” Her gaze remained trained on the sky. “My children will be safe.”
He heard Nathan’s voice chantingwhatever it takes to win. But this was about more than his career. This was about his mother’s security, his sisters’ futures.
The chance for a few more hours with Marigold.
“Can you trust his word? He hasn’t been honest with you in the past.”
She rolled her lower lip between her teeth, and a bolt of lust warred with the panic in his gut. “But if we lose—”
“We won’t.”
She looked at him, touched her hand on his. “We can’t control what the judge rules. At least this way I have a chance.”
“I don’t trust him, and neither should you.” He pulled in a breath and let his head drop. “I’m sorry. It’s not my place to tell you what to do.”
She tilted her head quizzically. “But you’re my barrister. It is your place to give me advice.”
He wasn’t advising as her barrister, but as the man who wanted to peel the clothing off her, to press her bare skin against his and listen to her moan with pleasure. The man who wanted to steal her away and protect her from harm. This man had no place guiding her choices.
“I can’t think clearly about this,” he said. “Ihatehow that man treats you, and I’ve seen how he tears you down. If you remain his wife, if he has any influence in your life, he’ll destroy you.”
She shifted, picked at the fabric of her skirt. “I didn’t start this because of my needs.”
He turned until his knees bumped hers, but didn’t put any space between them, allowed that single point of contact. “It’s about more than you or your boys. Think of all the women in England who can’t leave their marriages because of their status. Who can’t prove their husbands have hurt them.”
